#Lady of Purple's slice of life

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 12

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

The smut has arrived. You've been warned.

Next chapter: 11/15

Word Count: 7.5K

Masterlist

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‘My Dude’s Pies’ stood out starkly in bright yellow letters on the front of the otherwise nondescript brick building. There was nothing particularly special about it from the outside. It didn’t stand out in any way. It looked like most of the other businesses along the main street in Hawkins. Nothing that would really catch your eye or bring you pause but the inside was an entirely different story. 

Your eyes widened at the riot of color that greeted you as you and Eddie walked through the door. The walls were painted a neon green with a huge mural of a slice of pizza riding a wave decorating the largest wall. The other walls were filled with various artwork, all quirky and eclectic: a cow wearing sunglasses, a tiger in a garish purple velvet suit, a collection of paintings of trolls' toys with a rainbow of brightly colored hair. Multi-colored lights hung from the ceiling and snaked around the walls. The furniture was a mish mosh of neon colors, your eyes assaulted with glaring shades of hot pink, flaming red, electric blue, and florescent yellow. The floor was white tile, blocks of the same brilliant shades sprinkled throughout. 

“My dudes!”

You looked up to find Argyle coming through the swinging doors from the kitchen, his arms raised over his head in greeting. Of course. How had you forgotten that Argyle owned the pizza place in town? The decor here perfectly matched the loud fashion choices of the man currently walking toward you, pulling you into a bone-crushing bear hug. 

“Hi Argyle,” you gasped, your chest constricted with the force of the friendly embrace. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, friends?” he inquired. “You two craving one of my tasty pies?”

“I was just hungry, man. The lady said she wanted pizza, so here we are,” Eddie answered.

“Wait…” Argyle stepped back, his fingers pointing between the two of you, dancing just like his eyes, a grin stretching his mouth wide. “Oh! Oh! Are you two dating now? Is this a thing? It looks like a thing. How did I not know about this?”

“No. Absolutely not a thing. This is definitely not a date,” Eddie protested, his hands waving in front of him as if that were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. “I’m just helping her out with a car. We ran to the junkyard for parts and I was hungry so I mentioned grabbing something to eat and she picked pizza. Just trying to be nice, man. Something new for me.”

“I see,” Argyle nodded. “Also getting real tired of the ladies chewing your ear off about chasing their new friend away, huh? And the car worked out! That’s rad. You know, Jonathan has some really good ideas sometimes. When he said you should get her your uncle’s car, I thought that was bogus because you two can’t stand each other. But look, here you stand in my restaurant ready to chow down together. So, it all worked out, right?”

Annoyance rippled along your spine, your ears buzzing as you silently seethed at his words. So, you’d been right all along. Eddie didn’t want to hang out with you. He hadn’t found you a car and offered to work on it out of the goodness of his heart. His friends had put him up to all of this because they wanted you to get along. Anger bubbled within you until it was boiling over, spilling out, completely out of your control anymore.

“Yeah, it all worked out. What a stand up guy to do exactly what his friends told him to do even though it’s awful for him, being forced to spend time with me. And us dating? Can you imagine?” you snorted obnoxiously, knowing you were being immature but not caring. “What a ridiculous idea. Like he would ever want to date some mainstream Prom Queen like me. He’s far too edgy for me. I’m too boring and normal. Actually stuck-up bitch is how I believe he put it if I’m remembering correctly. That would definitely go against his own personal motto of keeping that hardcore metal asshole image.”

Both men’s jaws dropped, eyes wide as you shoved past them and made your way to the front counter to order your food. At this point, you just wanted to eat and go home. Just as you were beginning to feel like you were becoming the person you hoped to be, someone strong and smart who would never let anyone else treat you like garbage, Eddie managed to make you feel like an idiot all over again.

Because wasn’t that what an idiot would do? Close their eyes and pretend they couldn’t see what was happening right in front of their face? Just like you did for a year, hell, for your entire marriage. Ignorantly ignoring all the signs, choosing to stay in your safe cocoon of ignorance over facing the glaring problem in the room that would implode your life. No, you didn’t know Cam was sleeping with your best friend but as you looked back, all the signs were there. The two of you had not been a happy couple for a long time. And now Eddie was just another problem you were trying to ignore, continually hoping for something that wasn’t there, pretending everything was fine when it was anything but.

“Hey, what can I get you?” asked the perky teen girl with a beaming smile that was manning the cash register. 

Your eyes scanned over the menu, remembering how yummy that pineapple pizza had been the other night. “I’m going to get the Pineapple Express.”

“For here or would you like it in a box to go?”

“You know what? Can I get it to go please?”

There. You could get your pizza and then he could take you home. Eddie could just go sit in his house and eat his pizza all alone since being with you was clearly a chore for him, something he was only doing to play nice, to keep his friends from being mad at him. You would enjoy your pizza and maybe dive back into your book that you needed to finish before it was due back at the library. 

You stepped down to the end of the counter to wait on your pizza just as Eddie stepped up, ordering a ‘Slice to Meat you.’ Your eyes flicked up to the menu, noticing it was basically a four meat pizza with bacon, sausage, pepperoni, and ground beef. When the girl asked him whether he wanted it here or to go, he answered that it was for here.

“He meant to go,” you called out to the girl.

You could feel Eddie’s eyes boring into you as he protested, “Actually, I want mine for here.”

“Well, I got mine to go so you may as well get yours to go too. Wouldn’t want to force my company on you any longer than necessary,” you muttered, folding your arms, eyes trained on the kitchen, refusing to look at him. 

“Both of our orders are for here,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

A hand wrapped around your bicep in a vice grip, not enough to hurt but firm enough to get your attention. Eddie pulled you away from the counter and over into the corner of the restaurant, your bodies shadowed from the rest of the customers, the lighting dim. Your back pressed up against the wall, his body so close you could feel the annoyance radiating off of him. 

“Alright, what the hell is your problem now? I asked you out to dinner. I didn’t ask if you wanted to grab food and go. I assumed that meant we were eating it here, together,” he snarled, keeping his voice low in an effort to not draw attention.

“You are my problem. You’ve been my problem ever since I first laid eyes on you and I just want to take my pizza home.”

“Jesus Christ, you bitch about me but are you aware of how unbelievably frustrating you are? You want to talk about mood swings? You went from pleasant to nasty in a matter of seconds,” hissed Eddie. “What the hell was that about, huh? I thought we were past all that. I thought we were trying to be nice to each other. I fucking apologized, using the actual words because you insisted, for what I said to you. I brought you food. We sat and watched a movie. We hung out today. I thought we were cool so why did you have to throw that back in my face again?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him but quickly snapped it shut again. What could you possibly say to explain the way you’d acted without telling him the very thing you never wanted to utter aloud? I threw it back in your face because I like you but it’s pretty obvious you don’t like me and that made me act like a five year old who wasn’t getting their way?

No, you absolutely could not say that. Nor could you explain how he kept sending signals that made you think maybe he was interested and then just as fast shut you down. If you said that, you were openly admitting that you were hoping for something to happen here and that was the most mortifying thing you could think of. He would reject you, right here, in front of Argyle and word would quickly spread among the group and you’d never be able to show your face around them again. Hell, you wouldn’t be able to show your face in Hawkins. In a town this small, everybody would know before you walked into work on Monday.

“You’re right,” you admitted, gritting your teeth as you did so, the words painful to even speak because he wasn’t right but you couldn’t tell him why. “I did forgive you. We’re past it. Just forget it, okay? It’s fine. We can eat our pizza here.”

“Pineapple Express for Y/N!”

You pushed past him in a huff, grabbing the box from the young guy, forcing a smile and thanking him. You dropped down hard into a chair at the nearest table, opening the box. The pizza smelled amazing but your stomach was so twisted up with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t that you weren't sure you could eat it even if you wanted to.

Eddie sat down across from you, his own pizza on a silver tray. He grabbed a slice, taking a large bite and then sat back, spreading his legs wide. His eyes assessed you as he chewed slowly, as if he were a doctor and you were exhibiting the most unusual symptoms, his brain struggling to come up with a diagnosis. Well, that was fine. You  certainly weren't helping him fill in the missing information. 

“So…we’re fine?” he questioned.

“Yeah. I said we were, didn’t I?”

“I know what you said but based on your body language and the way you’re staring daggers at me right now, I am getting the distinct impression that it’s not actually fine,” he grumbled, dropping his pizza back on the tray. His body leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the table. “So, you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. Seriously. It’s fine. Just drop it.”

“Look sweetheart…”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

Eddie’s head ricocheted backward, “Okay. Fine. I’m just a little confused here. I thought we were doing okay. We had a nice night last night, a good day today, so what changed?”

“Nothing. Nothing changed so you don’t have to worry. You’re doing your job. You’ve been nice to me. You pitied me and helped with my car. You even took me to dinner and hung out with me and now your friends will be happy with you because you can say we’re getting along. So, we’re good. You did good, alright?”

“I pitied you? You think I asked you to grab something to eat because I pity you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe or maybe not but you definitely asked me to dinner and are fixing my car and hanging out with me to make sure your friends don’t yell at you for being rude. Argyle made that pretty clear. So glad that Jonathan was able to come up with a solution for me since I’m such a problem for you. I’m just telling you, mission accomplished. If they ask, I will let them know what a nice guy you’ve been. So, you can stop doing things you obviously don’t want to do.”

“I didn’t ask you to get food with me for my friends. I also didn’t offer to fix your car for them. Yeah, it was Jonathan’s idea that I show you my uncle’s car but I chose to offer to fix it. They are very well aware of what an asshole I can be and they’ve stuck around for over ten years. I’m not worried about them being pissed at me and I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, darling.”

“Fine,” you huffed, folding your arms over your chest, eyes challenging him. “If not for them, then explain to me why we’re sitting in this pizza place.”

“Did you ever consider the possibility that maybe I liked hanging out with you?”

“No! Why would I?”

“Jesus H. Christ, woman, you can be so damn stubborn,” Eddie growled, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Is it really so hard to believe that I can be a nice guy? That maybe, just maybe, I just want to try to be your friend?”

“Yes, it is when you say shit like you were hungry so you figured you’d try out being nice and invite me along. That doesn’t sound like you wanted to share a meal with me. It sounds like you felt like you should and I don’t need to be anyone’s charity case.”

“Do I seem like the type of guy who would take on a charity case out of the goodness of my heart?” he demanded.

“Yeah, actually you do,” you shot back. “I know all about your little DnD club, Hellfire, right? I know how you took in Dustin, Lucas, and Mike because you noticed they weren’t fitting in, sitting all alone. I think it’s admirable, really, but I am not some freshman in high school who’s being isolated from the group. I can take care of myself. I’m not one of your sheep and I sure as hell don’t need a shepherd.”

His eyes widened, head tilting, “Who told you about Hellfire?”

“Jonathan,” you answered shortly, realizing just a bit too late that you may have divulged more than you should have.

“And how exactly did that topic come up?”

“We were just talking about the group, about how everyone met. He told me Dustin practically worships the ground you walk on, how you took the boys under your wing their freshman year, and gave them a safe space.”

“Oh he did?”

“He did,” you mumbled. 

It was only a half lie. That had been what Jonathan said but it hadn’t exactly come up as organically as all that. But you couldn’t tell him the real reason. He pissed you off and drove you nuts but you didn’t want to hurt him. Telling him about Lance, about what he’d said, would only cause him more pain and no matter how much he upset you, you couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

“Someone should tell him to keep his big mouth shut about my business,” grumbled Eddie.  

“Why? Because someone might actually mistake you for a good guy,” you teased, a small smile breaking through your previous annoyance. “Can’t have that, right?”

“Letting those little shrimps into my high school club does not make me a good guy. Most people in this town would tell you it made me the bad guy, actually. Welcoming them into my club for losers and freaks, painting a bullseye on their backs for four years of torment.”

“I disagree. Those kids were going to be targets whether they joined your club or not. Besides, most seniors would not take the time to acknowledge some lowly freshmen, let alone go out of their way to make sure they felt like they had somewhere to belong. I think it speaks to who you really are, the person you try to hide behind all the surliness and unpleasantness.”

“Oh yeah? Weren’t you the one who just moments ago didn’t even want to share pizza with me and now you’re certain I’m really a good guy?”

“I never thought you weren’t a good guy. I just know there’s something that’s caused you to bury him down deep, something that hurt you. I can see it all the time. It’s in your eyes, in the way you shut down, in the way you mask any possible emotion with anger because that’s the easiest one to handle. You don’t want to be vulnerable with anyone because you don’t want to risk it.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Eddie grumbled, head dropping, that mass of hair veiling his face as if he were trying to hide from you. As if he were trying to keep you from seeing the truth and really, wasn’t that what he’d been doing from the first moment you met?

“You’re right. I don’t, but I get the distinct impression that you think you’re all alone but you’re not. You have a mess of people who genuinely seem to truly care about you, who seem willing to do anything for you if you’d only let them in.”

“Do I?” he questioned, leaning back in his seat again, lean arms crossing over the top of his shirt. “And do you count yourself among one of those people, sweetheart?”

“I would like to be,” you admitted, your stomach twisting at the honesty of your words, at the vulnerable state you were putting yourself in by telling him the truth. “If you’d let me. I mean, you know, be a friend to you.” You added that quickly, not wanting to send this conversation veering off course or send him shutting down, thinking you meant something he very obviously didn’t want.

“Well, after two meals together, I think we can safely say we’re friends,” he replied softly, those plush lips pursing together as the corner of his mouth, a dimple appearing on the same side. 

“Good,” you smiled, grabbing your pizza, hunger returning with the very large step you’d both just taken. 

Friends. You could do that for him. You could be his friend. You would push your attraction down, somewhere deep where it couldn’t reach the light of day, and learn to be okay with this because it was all that he wanted from you. You couldn’t be angry with him because he wasn’t attracted to you. You couldn’t control attraction. So if friends was all he wanted, then you would be his friend.

___________________________________________________________

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously as Eddie got out of his van after you. 

You were sitting in front of your house and you’d assumed he was simply dropping you off. You’d both managed civil, polite conversation while you’d enjoyed the rest of your pizza. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He hadn’t suddenly divulged the deep dark secret that you knew was buried in there but it had still been nice. You’d actually talked for an hour without arguing once.

You had enjoyed the way his face softened, his eyes warmed, as he talked about his uncle. The man clearly meant everything to him. He hadn’t told you what you already knew about his parents. He clearly didn’t trust you enough yet and you weren't going to bring up his ugly past but he had told a few stories about growing up with his mom’s brother. 

You’d particularly enjoyed the story about Wayne dressing up as Santa Claus after an eleven year old Eddie insisted he wasn’t real. He’d loudly brought in the presents, banging around on purpose to wake the kid so he would catch sight of him. Eddie had been shocked to his core, everything he thought he’d been certain of suddenly in question. He’d believed in Santa until he was fourteen after that, no matter what the other kids had to say on the matter. But he never told anyone he was real, that he’d seen him, not wanting to be mocked at school. 

“I’m walking you to your door,” Eddie answered, that look on his face again, the one that said he thought you were dense, as if walking you to your door should have been obvious. 

“Umm…ok,” you mumbled, the two of you walking side by side up your sidewalk. 

Eddie’s hands were tucked into his pockets as he climbed the steps next to you. You stepped up to the door and reached into your purse for your keys before pausing and turning to face him. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, “you know, for helping with the car and for dinner and everything. It was nice, you know, getting to hang out with you, feeling like you actually might not be completely repulsed by me.”

You laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off as a joke but it fell flat because you couldn’t really find it funny. Especially not right now, with the way Eddie was looking at you. 

Eddie’s jaw lifted, his head tilting to the side, “Repulsed by you? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

You shrugged, pulling your lower lip between your teeth, “You certainly seemed to be.” You waved your hand in dismissal, trying to play it off. “Look, it doesn’t really matter anymore. We decided to move past all of that, right? My point was just that it was nice, feeling like I was your friend, that maybe you’re okay with me being around because I really like your friends and I would like to keep hanging out with everybody. I haven’t really…I mean, I’ve spent the last four months alone, basically. It’s nice to have people.”

“Sweetheart, I have never been repulsed by you,” Eddie stated, shaking his head, those brown eyes burning holes straight through you, your skin suddenly warm, uncomfortably warm as he stepped into you and you stepped back with nowhere to go, your back pressed against the door. “Not once. How in the hell could anyone be repulsed by you?”

Your breath caught, the ability to pull in air suddenly felt impossible as the back of his hand came up, brushing along your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, the feel of his skin against yours filling you with an overwhelming need. You battled yourself, refusing to take the first step, not willing to open yourself up to his rejection, a concept that was so shockingly painful it caused an ache within your chest. 

“I don’t understand,” you managed to choke out, head swimming, scared to allow yourself to read anything in his words, knowing you could be twisting them into what you wanted. And god, you wanted it so badly at this moment. 

“The first moment I saw you, this face across those flames, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen,” Eddie rasped, his fingers moving over the back of your neck, fingers slipping into your hair. His nose was grazing, featherlight, across your forehead and your legs threatened to send you to the ground. 

“I…Eddie…this is…I don’t understand what is happening. What the hell do you want from me?” you pleaded, hands pressed flat against the door in an effort to keep yourself stable because he was shaking your foundation to the core. 

“Too much,” he whispered, words growled against your ear. “More than I should.”

His lips crashed into yours and it was indescribable: a meteor shower blazing across the sky, heat lightning setting your soul ablaze, a cyclone of desire that was destroying everything in its path. Every time you’d imagined this very moment, you’d been so wrong because your mind could never have come up with this. It was as if your soul recognized him and was pulling toward him like a magnet, desperate to connect with the piece it had been missing. He was leaving his name tattooed across your soul with a single kiss, marking you forever.

You finally allowed yourself to slide your hands into that hair, fingers tangling through luscious, thick waves. Eddie’s hands flattened against your door on either side of your head, his chest pressing against yours, pinning you between him and the wood. His tongue slid across your lips and you parted them eagerly, moaning as he licked and explored, leaving nothing untouched, completely consuming you, making you feel him everywhere at once.

It was a kiss that made you forget about every other kiss you had ever had. Cam who? No kiss with Cam had ever felt like this. It was a kiss like they show in movies and romance novels. It was a kiss that made you feel as if you were living in a dream because there was no way reality could feel this damn good. It was a tidal wave crashing against your shores, washing away any trace of anything that wasn’t him, his lips as they devoured you, his tongue slipping along your own. 

“House,” he growled into your mouth, his voice deep and raspy, filled with the longing that you felt to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“House…” you gasped. “Yeah…”

You turned, struggling with your key, your fingers trembling. It didn’t help when his hands slid around you, thumb running just under your shirt, rough and calloused against the skin of your stomach. His face nuzzled against your hair, tongue tracing the edge of your ear, and you fought like hell to find enough clarity to get the key in the door. 

You’d barely pushed the door open before he was on you again, crushing you to him, his foot kicking the door shut roughly behind you. He walked forward, causing you to stumble back and then your back was pressed against the wall again. His nose ran along your cheek, across your jaw, down the side of your throat and you trembled at the simple contact as he breathed life back into you with his touch.

Then his lips joined in the fun and Jesus. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he explored the column of your throat and then his lips latched around the skin, suckling it into his mouth. You cried out, your hand grasping the back of his head, holding him against you, the sensations moving straight down between your legs, an ache that refused to be ignored pulsing insistently. 

“You smell amazing,” he breathed, kisses pressed against your pulse point, tender skin sucked between his lips, teasing with his teeth. He was going to mark you. Your thirty year old self was going to be walking around with a hickey but you couldn’t find the will to care. “You are so goddamn beautiful. From the moment I saw you a few weeks ago, all I could think about was touching you, running my hands over every inch of your body, finding out just how good you taste.”

Holy fuck. A soft whimper fell from your lips, your skin trembling at his words. Was this really happening right now? All those times you’d imagined this, this exact moment, you’d never believed it would ever become a reality. Could it possibly be true? Had he been wanting you just like you’d been wanting him?

His hands pulled at your shirt, yanking it over the top of your head and tossing it. The frenzy of just mere seconds ago halted as he stood admiring every inch of you. Cam had never looked at you like that, like you were the most desirable woman he’d ever seen. Eddie’s eyes roamed over your chest, the black lacy bra that hid nothing, your nipples already hardened into peaks, pressing against the fabric as your chest heaved in anticipation. 

“Jesus H. Christ,” he breathed, one hand coming to cup the mound of flesh now revealed to him, his thumb moving over your nipple as you gasped, biting on your bottom lip. “Your ex is a fucking idiot. You are so damn perfect.”

His lips fell to your chest, open mouthed kisses against the flesh that spilled from the top of the bra as his hands slipped around your back, working at the clasp. He released it quickly, expertly as if he’d done it a dozen times, discarding it to the floor. You arched toward him, your body aching for his hands, his mouth, anything. You had never been so turned on in your entire life.

You writhed as he worshiped your breasts, teeth and tongue and lips everywhere. Teasing, sucking, nibbling until you were panting, your hand buried in his thick locks, holding him against you. Your hips rocked forward, craving more, craving all of him, as if you were an addict and he was your drug, the only thing that could satisfy this burning need blazing within you. He pulled one nipple between his lips, sucking hard, so hard it hurt but it was the most blissful kind of pain, the kind that made you want to beg for more. 

Eddie rose up straight, his lips finding yours once again, tongue exploring your mouth, massaging your own. You needed to see him, all of him. You grasped at his shirt and he pulled away just long enough to yank it over his head. As your eyes fell on his pale flesh, a canvas of battle wounds, a patchwork of scars just like the ones on his neck and arm, you gasped softly. It was like you were looking at a roadmap of his past, the pain he’d been through, proof of how strong he was to have survived whatever horrors he’d endured.

“Eddie,” you whispered, your fingers reaching out, tracing the deep, dark, and jagged lines along his abdomen.

At the feel of your touch, Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping him, as if he was starved for it. As if he hadn’t been touched in far too long. You felt him shiver, his heart beating fast and hard under your palm, his chest rising and falling rapidly. It filled you with a searing sadness, wondering how long it had been since someone had touched him with affection.

He grabbed your hand, bringing the pads of your fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. Then he bent down and grabbed his shirt, preparing to pull it back over his head and you reached for it, pulling it from his hands. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry…I…I know it’s hideous,” he mumbled. “I can keep my shirt on so you don’t have to look at them.”

Your heart fractured, tiny jagged pieces crumbling into dust at his words, at the way his face crumpled, as his expectation of rejection. Had other women seen this and turned from him? Had someone actually asked him to keep his shirt on? You were filled with a strong desire to punch them in the face if they did. 

“No,” you told him softly, tossing the shirt across the room. “You don’t have to hide from me.” You stepped into him, pressing your lips against the scar that was at his collarbone, relishing the sweet groan that fell from his lips. “This is a part of who you are, proof of how strong you are, and I don’t think you’re hideous, Eddie. I think you’re beautiful. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Don’t ever cover yourself up because you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your lips moved, pressing against each and every scar, worshiping him just the way he had you. The soft sighs he made with each touch of your mouth filled you with warmth. You were overcome with a desire to take away this man’s pain, to show him just how beautiful he was, how his scars didn’t diminish him. They were a testament that he had fought and survived. What he’d fought you didn’t know but after seeing the evidence on his body, you couldn’t believe this was the work of a bunch of rabid raccoons. 

You brought your face to his, kissing the scar along his jaw, your tongue moving along the raised and angry skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently and he groaned, cupping the back of your head and tipping it back. He smashed his lips to yours, urgent and needy. 

“Eddie…” you whispered as his lips traveled again, exploring. They moved between your breasts, along your stomach before he dropped to his knees in front of you, undoing your shorts and pulling them, along with your panties, down your legs. You lifted each foot, allowing him to remove them completely. 

His hand ran over your leg, down to your calf, gripping it and hooking it over his shoulder, opening you completely to him. You gazed down at him, biting your lip and he grinned, cocoa eyes now dark with lust before he pressed his face against your center, nuzzling his nose in, inhaling deeply. Your head hit the wall at the slightest contact. 

“You don’t…I was going to…” you managed to squeak out, though you weren’t sure how as his lips traced over your calf and then the skin of your inner thigh. 

“No. I’ve been dying to know what you taste like for days…” he growled softly, his teeth biting down into the supple flesh of your thigh, causing you to shriek as your head slammed back against the wall. 

Your brain lost all ability to form a coherent thought as his tongue ran over your folds, spreading you open. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as they rocked toward him, moving as if they had a mind of their own, a mind that wanted to get as close to his mouth as it could. 

“So fucking good, Prom Queen. So wet for me already,” he growled, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking on it like a hard lozenge to soothe a painful ache. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” you yelped, hands slamming against the wood of the door. 

His tongue flicked, lips sucked, teeth raked until you were on the verge of tears, your orgasm already coiling like a snake ready to strike. Two thick fingers slipped through your slick, teasing at your opening, and then he pressed them into you, pumping them rhythmically, his tongue never letting up its attention on your clit. 

He worked like a man on a mission, like he was starving and you were a buffet of delicacies spread out before him. Cam had always acted like doing down on you was a chore, something he was required to do so he could get what he wanted. Eddie acted like this was the main attraction, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered, like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

“Oh my god…” you keened, hands flat against the door, trying to keep yourself in an upright position as the muscles in your legs quivered, knees threatening to give out beneath you. 

“Not a god sweetheart…just a freak. A freak who’s going to make you cum harder than you ever have,” he mused, burying his face, mouth wrapped around your clit as he shook his head back and forth, fingers curling within you, hitting a space Cam had certainly never found and you bit your lip so hard, you tasted blood. 

Your entire body shook as the tsunami that was your orgasm crashed down over you. Your vision went white and you began to slide down the wall to the floor, your legs unable to support you anymore. Eddie caught you, arms around your legs, creeping upward as he stood. He kept a firm grip on you as he kissed you soft and deep. 

“Holy shit,” you gasped through a haze of pleasure, your body jello that had been left out in the sun, oozing into all the cracks of the sidewalk, unable to form a substantial shape.

“That was so much better than I imagined,” Eddie whispered against the shell of your ear, strong arms locked around you. “Fuck, Prom Queen, the sounds you make…your ex ever make you feel that good?”

“I…he…huh…” you managed, your brain still completely checked out. 

Eddie scooped you up easily, carrying you up the stairs bridal style. His lean body was deceiving as he held you as if you weighed nothing, kicking open the door to your room, laying you back on the bed. Your eyes followed him hungrily as he removed his pants and boxers, revealing even more of those angry scars over his legs. Fuck, it was like something had tried to consume him, biting off hunks of flesh anywhere and everywhere it could reach. 

His hand felt in his back pocket, retrieving a foil wrapped condom and your eyes widened. Had he planned for this? Hoped for it? Why else would he just be carrying a condom with him when he knew he would be spending the day with you? He ripped open the foil with his teeth, rolling it down over his substantial girth. Your eyes watched him eagerly, your pussy already pulsing again, needy for him, wanting to know what he felt like inside of you.

His fists came down onto the end of the bed as he crawled his way up to you, surprising you when he turned you onto your side, spooning you from behind. He gripped his cock, rubbing it over your folds, through your wetness and you moaned, pressing your ass back against him, eager for him to fill you, to feel all of him. He used the tip to tease your clit, working you up until you were whimpering again, desperate for him. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust up into you. 

“Oh shit…” you groaned, eyes rolling back in your head as he hit the deepest spaces within you, his cock bottoming out with each roll of his hips. He was stretching you deliciously, his cock thicker than anything you were used to. “That’s so good.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Eddie breathed in your ear, one hand gripping your hip, the other wrapping around your throat, pulling you flush against him as he rocked himself in and out of you again and again. 

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You feel so goddamn good wrapped around me, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so damn wet,” grunted Eddie, his fingers walking from your hip to between your thighs, teasing your clit once again. 

“Jesus…” you whimpered, rolling your hips against his hand, causing you to come back even deeper on his cock each time he rocked forward, both of you groaning at the new sensation.

“Keep doing that, Prom Queen. Fuck, feels so good,” he muttered, lips pressed against your shoulder. 

You continued to rock your hips, panting, sweaty, your bodies slipping along each other. That snake coiled up again quickly and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer, not with his cock hitting all the right places and his fingers playing you like a fucking piano, hitting all the right notes every goddamn time. 

“Eddie…I’m gonna…I’m so close…”

Eddie’s fingers gripped your chin, turning your face toward his, “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum for me. I want to see your face when I make you lose control.”

His words were like a force, snapping you like a rubber band. “Oh Eddie!” you screamed, white hot pleasure exploding from your center just as he grunted your name and rutted deep inside of you, his own orgasm taking control. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, body quivering behind you. He slipped from inside you gently, pulling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can right next to the bed. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on his arm, smiling down at you, thumb running along your jaw. “So, what do you think? Can we manage to be friends?”

You laughed, the sound loud and explosive at the absurdity of his words, “I uh…I don’t usually do that with friends.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never had a friend that’s made me rock hard every time they walk by,” Eddie shrugged. “I mean, Harrington’s pretty but…”

You snorted, rolling into him, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. You’d told yourself that a relationship was the last thing you needed. You’d convinced yourself that you just needed to find yourself but now, you were more than content to find yourself while being with Eddie. If something good came along, even when you weren’t planning on it, why would you risk throwing it away? What if no one ever made you feel like this again?

“I have not been this happy in over a year. The others are never going to believe this,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “They think we can’t stand each other. What are they going to do when they find out we’re…” You paused, not sure how to finish that sentence. “What are we? Is this…something?”

Eddie stilled next to you, clearing his throat. “We don’t really need to rush to name this anything yet or define it or…you know, announce it to anybody. I mean, who knows what’s gonna happen, right? No reason to jump the gun.” 

A weight crushed your chest at his words, “So…was this just a one time thing?”

“That’s not what I said. I just don’t think we need to make some big declaration about it. Who knows what this is right now, right? I mean, we don’t even know what this is. No need to confuse everybody else.”

“Right…” you murmured, not wanting to put any pressure on him, to come across as pathetic, to admit how much you wanted this to be the start of something more.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Alright, sweetheart, this has been amazing and everything but I am going to grab my clothes and I’ll get out of your hair, okay?” 

Eddie sat up, bursting your blissful bubble. What? You reached out for him, struggling to comprehend the sudden change of pace. How did you go from having sex to him ready to leave so quickly? Your hand wrapped around his forearm. He looked down at it and then back at you quizzically, one eyebrow lifted. 

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? I thought…I mean, I assumed after that…” you sighed, frustrated at being put in a vulnerable state where you were admitting how weak you really were, how needy you were for him to stay. “I thought you’d spend the night. We could watch a movie or something.” Sitting up, you pressed your lips against his bare shoulder, your arms coming around his waist. “Maybe do this again. I could even make you breakfast tomorrow.”

He looked away from you quickly, too quickly, and you felt your heart sinking. All the joy, the pleasure, the anticipation of things to come melted out of your body, dread taking over. He was regretting it. You’d allowed yourself to believe he wanted more and he was shutting down on you again, locking the door, leaving you out in the cold. 

“Uh…as tempting as that sounds, I should really get home. I mean, I gotta get up early tomorrow and…”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. The shop can’t possibly be open on Sunday.”

“No, but I told my uncle I’d help him with uhh…with this thing. I mean, something with his truck. And I live closer to him than you do. It just makes more sense to stay at my own place. Besides, I don’t want to wake you up early on a Sunday when you could sleep in.”

Panic inhabited every cell of your being, desperate to keep him there, fearing that if you let him walk out the door, all of this would have been for nothing. He would go back to being who he’d been the last few weeks. You would now be the idiot who slept with a guy who never planned on anything more than a one night stand. 

“I’m sure your uncle would understand if you showed up a little later. You could always call him and…”

“No,” Eddie stated, his tone very clearly letting you know that the discussion was over. “Look, this was nice. It was great.” He rose from the bed, pulling his pants on. “But I don’t think we’re at the staying at each other’s places level yet, okay? We barely know each other.” Now his shirt was over his head, his hands checking his pockets for his wallet and keys. “I’ll call you.” 

Bending down, he kissed the top of your head and then darted from the room as if he couldn’t get away from you fast enough. You pulled your knees into your chest, battling back the tears, the awful pain in your chest, the insistent voice telling you that you were a moron, a moron who’d let some guy use you all over again. 

Chapter 13

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson lives #max mayfield #hawkins #ongoing #fluff #angst #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #enemies to friends to lovers #post divorce #falling in love #second chances #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #jonathan byers

[doxypsychlean]

Hi <3

I loved everything you wrote about Aegon. Could you please write some oneshot/headcanons (you decide) in wich Reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter and Aegon always loved her since childhood but they had a enemies to lovers relationship (she is a girl just like Arya/Lyanna personality and is always teasing him). But in episode 8, she is bethroed to Aemond and he needs to say to her his feelings. You can decide the ending, thank you :)

(Sorry my bad english :/)

Quick up 📅 - I kinda forgot abt the part where she's Rhaenyra's kid. It may have slipped my mind as soon as I read Arya's name lol. Anyhoo-

The Wolf And The Dragon

Aegon II Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Explicit language

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off! Maybe indulge in a battle to the death with your sweet ol' granny. Probably steal your beloved pet.

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: It's kinda long ngl, but sickeningly sweet! Oh, yeah. Aegon isn't married to Helaena in this one. For my own sake, she's with her loving husband, Lord Sth-Sth of Sth-Sth. Cheers!

One of her father's men was dragging the young lady through the training grounds as the boys trained with Ser Criston and Ser Harwin. They all stopped to stare at her and the knight. She was biting, scratching and kicking at him.

"What do you care?! Seven Hells, let go!"

The man stopped and grabbed her by her small shoulders. He'd had enough of the little lady's antics for one day. He shook her as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Child, I've been there for all your life, I won't stand to watch you try and get yourself killed." The knight's face was turning red with anger. "You're of one and ten, you can't be walking around the capital without anyone to keep you safe! Do you realize what could have happened?!"

"Fuck. You." The girl hissed as she stomped down on the man's foot and spat in his eyes. She bolted, the man following close behind, while still trying to wipe the spit from his eyes.

"You wild beast, get back here!"

"She truly is a beast..." Aegon whispered to his brother and nephews as they all watched the knight tackle the kid to the ground.

"Ser Karstark, don't you think that's enough!" Harwin yelled out.

"Oh, want to come and deal with this thing yourself, Breakbones? It's not as easy as I make it look." Ser Brennard Karstark choked on his last few words, a small elbow slamming into his neck.

The girl got back on her feet, making a run for it once more.

On the next day, Ser Karstark was dragged the girl in the opposite direction, towards the training grounds this time. He was sporting a big purple bruise on his neck.

"I've told you so many times now, cub. You want to train, fine! I'll teach you! But picking attacking the guards is not the way to do it!"

The little lady only huffed in response as she reached down to her blade. She turned her head to the side, then struck.

Ser Karstark took a step back, the tip of the dagger almost making contact with his face.

"It is customary to wait for your opponent to bear arms before you try and chop his head off, wildling."

"As if anyone would wait for me."

She struck again, the knight dodging once more. Lady Stark circled around her opponent, her small eyes sizing him up.

To everyone's shock, the knight actually swung at her with his sword. The girl fell to the side as she rolled over, her silk tunic now covered in dirt.

"Good, good!" The knight nodded before he swung sideways.

She lowered her head, the blade of his sword passing right above it.

"Don't stay close to the ground for too long, cub..." Brennard warned as his took ahold of his sword with both hands. "The enemy will catch up on it eventually. And maybe do this!"

He yelled out as he put his whole strength into trying to lodge the sword into the girl's skull. She got back up. Her dagger was quick to find its target, slicing the knight's hand open.

Brennard looked at the blood that was spilling out of his hand, then at her.

"You play dirty, girl..."

"I do not wish to fight with honor when I can just do this."

Her small fist was now aiming for Brennard's nose. He let go of his sword, leaving it to stand there with the tip lodged into the ground below their feet. He caught her small hand by the wrist and punched her instead. The girl fell on her back, head slamming into the ground.

"Karstark!" Both Criston and Harwin yelled out, making their way towards the student and her teacher.

"Stand back! She wants to fight, so she'll fight!" Brennard yelled in return."Get up!"

Lady Stark jumped to her feet, eyes narrowing as she wiped the blood from her mouth. She used the moment to tackle her opponent to the ground.

"Finish the job." Brennard whispered to the child. "Do not let your enemies walk away. Do it!"

The girl's fingers found their way around the dagger that was hanging on the knight's side. She pulled it out and put it to his throat. The child was smiling down at him, eyes glowing.

"I win?"

Brennard laughed out as his hand ruffled through the short locks of hair on her head.

"You win! We'll make a fine soldier out of you, you'll see."

The two got up, each sporting a warm smile.

"Ya promise?"

Brennard nodded his head.

"But your training is not over yet." He turned to look at the two knights that stood close behind him. "We've seen you can tackle a grown man down to the dirt, but how will you manage with someone closer to your age and speed? Perhaps you should go against one of the young princes?"

Criston nodded. Him and Harwin went back to the boys.

"Prince Aegon against lady Stark then." He said as he motioned for the boy to take a step forward.

Aegon didn't move an inch towards the younger girl that was now staring at him with a devilish grin on her face. She scared him. She fought dirty and wasn't scared to take a blow to the face, even when it came from a grown man that was thrice her size. The girl didn't stand above stealing her enemy's weapon and using it against them either. On the contrary, if it were a real threat in front of her, she would have sliced the man's throat. The young prince realized everything he'd learned from both Ser Criston and Ser Harwin was useless against someone like her. Aegon had only heard of tales of the northmen, of their cold hearts and brutal ways. But now there was one in front of him. A child of winter and ice. A ball of rage with unruly, short hair. If Aegon didn't know her already, he would've thought it was a boy that stood in front of him.

There were no lavish dresses for her. No needlework. No singing. She was dirty nails. Unkempt hair. Grime. Blood. Sweat. Dirt. Adventure. Flying arrows. Hiss of daggers. Clash of swords.

"Ye fighting or what, aye? Don't have a whole day to wait ye." Her strong accent came through. She'd gone over and picked her weapon back up. The girl was waiting for the prince to come back to his senses, foot tapping impatiently as she twisted and turned the blade in her hand.

The fight was over pretty soon. The lady had knocked her prince down, elbow to his face. Ser Brennard knew what was going to happen, but made no move to stop his student. She broke his nose with that hit.

"I'd say ya fight like a girl, but... ya know..." She shrugged her shoulders at him as Karstark dragged her away with a proud smile on his face.

Eight years later Aegon had grown into a handsome young man. He'd grown into his soft features. His pale blue eyes stared at his feet, as kicked at some small rocks. Short strands of silver-white hair framed his face perfectly. He kept his hair on the shorter side. It was easier to manage.

Him and his brother stood next to the wide open gates that led into the castle's grounds. Aemond, unlike his older brother, had his hands folded neatly behind his back, waiting patiently.

"I don't understand, why did mother have to send us..."

Aemond nodded his head, signaling to his brother to look ahead. A group of sturdy looking men, covered in steel from head to toe, were coming fast towards them. At the front,just a few feet in away from the rest, a hooded rider. The jet black stallion this mysterious person was riding held its head high. The stomping of the horse's hooves had stopped.

"Prince Aemond! Prince Aegon!" A melodious, yet strong voice rang from underneath the hood.

"Lady Stark." Aemond greeted. "Welcome to the capital!"

The stranger hopped down from the horse and took their hood off. Aegon stared at her slack-jawed. There, in front of him, stood the most magnificent creature that had ever walked the earth. Porcelain skin w a scar here and there she'd most definitely got in battle. Sharp features, almost as sharp as the sword she had on her. Two big, bright eyes that shined with laughter. The only thing that reminded of the girl she once was, was her short dark hair. And her clothing. She'd never been the one to wear dresses. That hadn't changed either. Her long legs were covered in threadbare black pants that matched with her black tunic and boots.

"I trust your journey was pleasant?" Aemond asked out of politeness.

A short "aye" left her full lips, eyes trained on Aegon.

"Yer nose healed well, me Prince. Though it would seem there's something wrong with yer jaw..." She pointed towards his face, calloused fingers showing from underneath the sleeve. Her northern accent made a shiver run down Aegon's spine.

He couldn't bring himself to say something, the words refusing to leave his mouth. He nodded with a faint smile.

"Shall we?" Aemond's voice could be heard again.

"If ye don't mind, me and me men had spent long time on the road without a good challenge. We need a good fight"

Her men had jumped from their horses too, now waiting for their lady. Ser Brennard Karstark was standing next to her.

"Training grounds are that way, aye?" She nodded to the left, her eyes never leaving the older brother.

"Right, let's get ye to the stables, big boy." She finally looked away as she turned towards the stallion and ran a hand through his black mane.

Lady Stark handed the reins to the stable boy that had approached her with a soft smile and a nod of her head. The lad melted at the sight, tripping over his feet as he walked away.

"Ye two comin'?"

The woman walked away, her father's bannermen following close behind.

"Would love some audience while I kick this old bastard's arse to the ground." She pointed towards Ser Karstark as she and her men laughed.

"We'll see about that, Young Wolf." Ser Brennard said, even though he knew that was going to be the most likely outcome.

Two weeks had passed since lady Stark had arrived to the capital. For Aegon, it felt like it was years ago. They'd been spending most of their time together, much to the Queen's dismay. At least they had the decency to drag Aemond along.

On the first night in the capital, the young woman suggested they go for a drink. When the second born son of Viserys the Peaceful suggested they stay in the Red Keep, both Aegon and her laughed in his face.

They snuck out of the castle later that night in search of a tavern. Aegon, being a frequent visitor to most of them, made the choice.

Soon after they'd entered the establishment, lady Stark challenged them to a bet, saying she'd drink them both under the table. Aemond, being Aemond, refused. Aegon accepted almost immediately.

He was in shock. The woman that sat in front of him was perfect. She cursed like a sailor. Told all the dirty jokes she could think of. Even challenged some stranger to a fist fight to celebrate her winning the bet. The Young Wolf didn't even bother to take his hundred gold dragons she'd won fair and square, but instead slapped his hand away.

"It's not about the money, me Prince!" She laughed out as she punched the stranger square in the jaw. "It's the thrill!"

The three returned back to the castle only when the light of the sun had started to bounce off the waters of Blackwater Bay. Aemond walked in front of them, impatient to get as far away from the two drunk idiots. They walked with a slow pace, hands thrown over eachother's shoulder and words slurring.

"One of them cods got ya good, me Prince, no offense meant" She said to Aegon with a grin. "If it weren't for me, that arse would'a split yer head open."

"Good thing you were around to save me then, my fair lady..." Aegon responded. He came to a sudden stop, his face contorting in agony. His hand unwrapped from the woman's shoulders as he bent forward and let out all he'd consumed right where they stood.

Instead of cringing in disgust, the Stark laughed hard, tears pricking at her eyes. She ran a hand through her short hair.

"Now from that yer knight in shinin' armor can't save ye, I am sorry."

Aemond grabbed his brother by the scruff, pulling him back up.

"We'll get caught with all the noise you're making, we have to go. My lady..." He looked at her, hoping at least one sober thought would make its way back into her head.

The Young Wolf howled again, hand patting Aegon on the back as he choked.

"What got yer knickers in a twist, hm? We've got all the time in the world."

" 'Tis but the truth!" Aegon said through coughs. "Do not worry, brother. I'll escort my, how did you say it...Ah, yes! Knight in shining armor back to her chambers."

Aemond didn't need to hear much else. He turned his back to them abruptly and left. The two snickered as they watched him walk away.

"Yer brother-" The woman threw her hand back over his shoulders as they began walking once more.

"Tell me about it." Aegon interrupted, doing the same as her.

After a detour that led them to the Kitchen Keep where they stuffed their faces with whatever was left from the dinner, Prince Aegon and lady Stark made their way towards her chambers. He'd promised to escort his savior back and he intended to do it.

As they neared the door, Aegon stopped her.

"This was the most fun I've had in a long while. Thank you, my lady."

"Aye, same here. Hanging around those old farts ain't as fun as it may look." She snorted.

The two laughed once more, then she dissappeared into her chambers, ready to sleep off the remainder of the day.

Aegon felt the same. He flopped down on his bed the second he found himself close enough to do it without smacking his head in the floor.

The same thing repeated the next day. Except Aemond wasn't with them. As the good prince he was, he'd ran to tell his mother about what his older brother and the lady Stak were busying themselves with.

The lady found herself sitting between the two brothers on that feast. She'd pulled her chair as close as possible to Aegon. On their last "walk" around the capital, she'd introduced him to the Skull and Dice game. The two now sat close to eachother, whisper-shouting the word "skull" as they rolled the dice and drank from their cups.

Aegon's grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, was sitting across them. He smiled softly. The two were perfect for eachother. They shared the same interests- be it in books, hobbies or drinks. Why his daughter refused to give her oldest to the Young Wolf, he had no clue. She came from a great house, was trained in battle and proved to be quite intelligent, from what he'd heard her say. Sure, she liked drinking and venturing out of the Red Keep, and would also pick fights left and right. But so did his grandson.

Otto had come to the realization that the woman that sat next to his grandson was the way she was, not because she got to grow up in a castle where servants tended to each and every need of hers, but because she was raised amongst soldiers. Something her father had made sure of, once he agreed with the fact he won't be getting a proper lady out of her. The soldiers' ways had simply rubbed off on her.

Another thing that Otto had come to realize was how observant lady Stark was. She could be laughing and telling jokes, enjoying herself and her youth, but her trained eyes and ears were always turned to what was going on around her. She was a true northerner- rough and savage, but also loyal to the core and honorable. She'd be the perfect match for Aegon. If only his daughter would come to listen...

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems." Everyone's attention turned to the King. His gold mask was shimmering in the light of the candles as he spoke. "My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena..."

Viserys turned to face his second son, eyes darting to his first one and the Stark girl. He could sense it, all Hells were about to break loose with next couple of words.

"And my son, Aemond, will marry lady Stark, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes..."

They all raised their cups, except the silver haired man and the woman that was sitting next to him.

"Hear, hear!" Came from the Prince Daemon as he turned to smile at his brother.

Aegon didn't hear him. He was now staring at the Young Wolf, silently asking if what his father had said was true.

"If you'd excuse me!" He damn near shouted, eyes trained on Aemond, who in turn was staring in shock at their mother. Unlike Aegon, he knew a third betrothal would be announced on this feast. What he didn't know was that he'll be the one marrying the Stark.

"Aegon! Come back!" Alicent yelled after him, ready to follow.

"Don't, me Queen. I'll bring him back."

"Did you know?"

The halls were silent, all that could be heard were the muffled, hushed voices of his family, as the lot tried to listen in on the conversation.

"Did you know about it?!"

The woman stomped her booth on the ground, the sword that was hanging on her side shaking with the intensity. It was a warning for the prince to lower his voice.

"Aye, my father sent me for a reason. I didn't know I'd be marrying yer brother though..."

The young woman had shut the doors as she made her way out and into the corridors. There was no point, the whole room was now sitting in silence, listening on Aegon scream his lungs out.

"You can't!You won't!" The prince yelled out.

"Oh, what do ya care? Yer not the one gettin' tied down against yer will! Yer free to do as ye wish!" She said, her voice booming over his.

"So you don't want to marry him?"

"Are ye fuckin' jokin' , Aegon, yer brother is a twat and a half!"

Inside the room, Daemon could be heard laughing without shame. Aemond's jaw clenched, his smirk dissappearing as he stood up. Rhaenyra slapped her husband's arm, even though she herself was sporting a smile.

"Then don't fucking do it!"

"And what am I supposed to do, huh? Get back in there and tell yer father, my King, that I don't approve? That I, the daughter of the man that had sworn an oath to him, will not do as I'm commanded?"

"You and your oaths and orders... Is your pride so important that you'll willingly go against what your heart desires?!"

"Pride?" The word came out as growl." If it were for me pride, I wouldn't even be here. But I gave a word to me father and did as I was told... And what do ya, ye spoiled cod, know of what me heart desires? Hm?!"

"I know I've come to love you. Just as you have." Aegon took her hands in his, soft thumb rubbing over her rough skin. "I know that I love spending time with you. Just as you do."

Silence fell upon the halls once more as the prince thought of his next words.

"I've never met someone like you before. Someone that is so...me. You like to drink, you curse, you fight. You know all the dirty jokes and all drinking games. And even with all that, you know when to put an end to it, even if you don't want to. You're not afraid to sock me in the face when you know I'm being an arse. Or drag me all the way to the small council meetings, so I could fulfill my princely duties. Sit with me through those never-ending history lessons, even though you'd rather go outside and train. You keep me grounded. You always know what to do. You always know what is right. I'd like to think that I, for once, know too. It's you. But if you insist on carrying out this order..."

His hands reached for her face.

"Marry me instead. You came here to a marry a dragon, right? There's one in front of you right now. Begging, pleading for you to take him."

Silence. Again. Aegon searched for her eyes, searched for an answer in them. But found nothing. He sighed heavily, hands falling to his sides. The prince walked around her, head hanging low in embarrassment. He reached for the door handles, ready to get back inside and drink himself into a stupor. Or untill the high-pitched ringing in his ears went away.

"Ye sure talk a lot... It's a good thing though, I won't have to waste my breath no more...with ya around."

Their eyes met.

"What? Ye plan on standin' there all night?"

The doors swung open before Aegon could reach her. He turned back around, his eyes meeting those of his father.

"Or both of you could just come back inside and sit down? Your King is to make a new toast..."

Rough fingers wrapped around Aegon's. She was standing right there, next to him. He looked up from their intertwined hands. A toothy smile had found its way on his future wife's face.

"As me King commands..."

Viserys turned his back to them as he slowly made his way to his seat. The two followed close behind.

"We're finishing the game, right?" Aegon whispered to her.

"Go find the dice, ye threw it as ya stormed out." She laughed quietly.

The Wolf and her Dragon entered the room once more, hand in hand.

#aegon ii x reader #stark!reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #dance of dragons #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #game of thrones #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #accepting requests #requests open

[rreskk]

Rapture to his soul

Summary: Trevor Philips, as we all suspect, is a brat. He’s unkind, deserving of Hell. Pondering the punishments that would smoothen him the most, you had taken him a ride through Satan’s tour-bus, but in the most sensual way possible. And it may of ended in something more heavenly.

TW: -Rough smut -Kinks: Bondage, masochism, sadism, cock play. 

Word count: 2640

Pairings: Dominant Fem!reader/Brat!Trevor Philips

He wanted it.

The brat was bratting, and he was bratting well.

Fantasies, fantasies, fantasies… All he ever wanted, when he was tormenting and riddling you, was to be used. He had visions of you tying him and torturing him relentlessly, like he was nothing but a body bag for you to fuck. The need of your punches to his ribs – My, my! He’d want you to break his ribs! Strangle him with your arms; spank him until he was sliced and oozing red, waterboard him sensually, cover his skin with your bitemarks and fingernails.

He knew he was an utter dick to you. There were moments you were being stalked by him. His gut told him something worthwhile. The hallucinations of his drug use had made him see magic in your eyes, the hallow fire that could burn the life out of him. His obsession grew.

He wanted to die in your hands.

He wanted to die under your circumstances.

He wanted your heel to pierce his cock until it was battered and bruised, unable to work due to its dysfunction and your strength. He was small enough not to care. That 4 inch, uncircumcised penis could be bitten off by your filthy mouth and he’d thank you until Hell pitied his weakness for women so controlling.

Like fuck, he’d push all his internal issues onto you. While you stand, you’re flying in his eyes. While you stab his guts, you’re healing him. His mind is so messed up after the number of women treating him so wrong, and he’d never learn from it, resulting in your torture.

While it was all an insight buried in his ill-minded brain – he still wants it. He still wants you. Even though you were nothing but an ordinary lady, he was dying to be held and beaten by your fists. So he made himself deserve your wrath. He doesn’t care if it’s immoral; he’d never care! He’s the black sheep of society, there’s no need to fit in. He’ll carry on being a menace until –

“Urgh!”

Until he was being used, by you.

“Ohhh… Yes, yes! Again, sunshine! C’mon… Show me your worst,” Trevor’s voice was broken and swollen after being forced to suck a 7 inch dildo for your entertainment. You had made him gag, almost vomit over that damn toy.

It lied in front of him, the drool and mucus seeping from the surface and material. It was bright purple and intimidating.

“Unlike your dick, this one can give better head.” You smirked and belittled as he whined. Degradation was his favourite kink after all the years of degrading other people due to his own insecurities.

“Fuck… Mm, yes, it’s better than my dick. It’s big, it’s so big… Fuck…”

“And you love sucking on big dicks, don’t you?”

“God… Talk to me like that again, I’m so horny…” He whimpered from his place on the seat. His wrists were handcuffed by a rugged, steel chain. He was definitely bleeding due to the edgy metal scraping his skin every now and then. The cuffs had restricted his mobility. Trevor could only move his legs and head, the rest of his body unwillingly paralysed.

“You’re useless. You are only horny, horny, horny…” You chimed and moved the purple dildo closer to his parted lips – “You wanted this. You wanted to suck a big dick to impress me because your one is too little.”

His eyes glistened with delight when you continued to devalue his self-worth. Trevor went cross-eyed, staring at the dildo ahead with desperation. He let his tongue fall out, saliva dripping like a wild animal that had been tested positive with rabies.

“Here comes the aeroplane…”

He went wide eyed when you had forced the dildo back into his mouth, raiding his throat and making him gag more and more. You could see the tip of the toy hit his windpipe, his whole gullet moving from the outside. Trevor’s drool had left trails upon the purple cock that ran all down the 7 inched length. His moans were muffled and his eyes were bright red, stained with tears and the meth he had digested less than 24 hours ago.

You carried on deep-throating the dildo into his wretched mouth. You’ve never seen a grown man so hungry over disrespect and abuse. While you were used to seeing women being treated like dolls in a dollhouse – it was more captivating watching a professional criminal, a macho guy, someone who makes himself seem so dominant…

Turn submissive.

“ARGH!” His whimpers were like lullabies of the century.

“What’s wrong, baby? Is the cock too small for you?”

Trevor left bite marks against the dildo in attempts to taste the plastic. He was so blurred in his lust that your words were like sugar to his ears. He’d whinge whenever you rammed the toy into his gob, the harshness burning and irritating the surface of his mouth, managing to bruise the wetness.

“Oohhh…”

You noticed his body twitching uncontrollably. Glancing down, you saw his dishevelled penis quiver and trembled, his liquid cum squirting from his tip and dampening the chair underneath until he was sitting in his own fluids.  

The dildo remained tightly in his mouth, silencing his moans that were the result of his climax.

“ARGH! UHH, ohhh… MNGH!” He spluttered out.

The wild Canadian coiled as you fondled his achy cock. Your thumb had roughly pinched his tip and causing the man to cry in soreness. You had rough-handled his length until he couldn’t help form another tight, fuming erection that throbbed against your palm. He squealed for your attention.

“URGHH!”

“Shut up.” He immediately stopped struggling but still held a small grin at your sexy command – “I’ll make that dildo into a 24/7 gag if you don’t shut up.”

Trevor tilted his head in pain. You suddenly disburden the dildo, throwing it aside. His tongue was deadened after your intimate persecution. He couldn’t help the saliva streaming down his lips and chin.

“Fuckkk… Shit, [y/n],” The numbness of his mouth had made him slur, “You’re brutal. It’s so fuckin’ hot… More, more, more. Please, I’m begging you. You’re amazing, my fuckin’ angel. I worship you, baby, I worship… You. Only you, please…”

You, while ignoring his affectionate words, had his dick between your hands again. Every time you made contact with his sensitive boner, his body fell into glitches; so overblown by your continuous maltreatment, having no justifiable reason to rile you up more since… He’s already troubled you enough. Nevertheless, you were no angel. Neither was he.

In this situation, you were Satan punishing Judas for the immortal qualities of his sins and destruction.

You tightened the grip around his cock and cooked up his fresh skin into turning red and ill-fated. He was fighting against the distraints, crying for forgiveness as the sensation was overstimulating. Trevor’s hips would jerk against your palm in response to your nasty fist.

“FUCK, FUCK… Shit, [y/n], I can’t – “

“Hold it together…” A murmur left your lips. You had leaned closer, your hot breath bullying his weakened erection before spitting on his tip. It drooled down the small length and mixed with his pubic hair.

“Oh… Yeah, yeah.” Trevor stared down as you began taking him into your mouth.

Your teeth left bitter red lines, sucking him for a few slow minutes. He tasted bad. You’d swallow his cock whole, inspecting how cruelly his skin was. He didn’t care though. As long as your tongue was feasting him till dawn appears, he’ll be more than delighted.

Nevertheless, you’d occasionally feel his thighs unconsciously close against your head. Your hands exacted his ankles far apart. Trevor whined, his legs forced open uncountably. He panted your name numerous times. His thighs began shaking when you deep-throated his raw cock, occasionally spitting out your saliva into tormenting his balls as well.

Nibbles after nibbles, bites after bites, you licked over his damaged boner before he threw his head back, crying like a deer in headlights.

“FUCCCKKK!”

He didn’t last long until he squirted semen down your gullet. Trevor had whimpered at the remarkable orgasm that had taken him by surprised. At this point, he was savouring enough sweat to fill gallons of bottles. His chest was drenched and due to his rapid breathing, his rips were evident and abs ripping through his bloated tummy.

“Pleaseee… [y/n], fuck… Baby, babe, darling – “ He whispered, “I love you, I love you! Good Lord, I’m fuckin’… Hell!”

His inflamed cock departed from your salty mouth and flapped against his wet stomach. Trevor’s tummy pouch was trembling and being sucked in and out so dramatically. You noticed his Adams-apple adjusting as his breathing grew irregular and manic. Your persecution had left him broken.

“[y/n], fuck me, woman! You’re amazing, you’re divine. I’ll do anything for you!” He praised, eyes widening with pride and lust.

“Tell me that again when you’re unable to breathe.”

Trevor’s lip twitched. He felt riled up and couldn’t help but send you a glare.

“You’re lucky, so damn lucky, sugar… I don’t get on my knees for no one – “ He’d pause and shriek out. You pushed your heel against his bare crotch, eliminating the remaining feeling in his penis.

Trevor rocked his chair back and forth like a strangled, mental patient. He was whining your name, drool leaving army of strands from his lips. You applaud his pain and pushed harder, watching him coil and combust in a pit of Hell, destruction, and evil pleasure.

“SHIT, OH GOD! IT HURTS SO GOOD!”

The chair he was struggling against began cluttering the floor. You left your heel resting on his tip before tightening your gaze upon your adoring sight. He was praying for you, worshipping.

“I love you, I fuckin’ love you! God, thank you so much! Thank you!” If he wasn’t cuffed, he’d have his hands together and religiously yearning for your undying touch.

“Harder?” You smirked.

He gulped, “Shitt… Shit, shit. Fuck, I- I don’t think I could take it.”

“Aww…”

Trevor’s eyes dropped down at your foot that abused his genitals. He shivered, hating how you cooed him so easily. Was he really that submissive and… Weak looking?

“Fine… FINE!” He crossed his eyebrows and grinned, “Go harder, [y/n]. I can take it. I’m a big boy.”

You hummed but didn’t reject the offer. Your thigh muscles began contracting as you pushed against your heel, ramming the burning cock, the pressure causing it to shimmer and brought Trevor great pain. He tried to choke back the urge to cry your name. He needed to prove his masculinity, even if he wanted this in the first place.

“Urgh… Mngth… Fuuckk…” His jaw clenched, sweat trickling off his stubble.

“You’re a big boy still?” You continued to belittle him.

“I’m… I- I’m a fuckin’ man! Your man… You – FUCK! Shit… Oh, no, no… It hurts, I – “ Trevor was obviously distraught at his failure. He pouted his face when squeaking out some groans. The thought of embarrassing you after demanding he was “a big boy”, it made him realise something; he deserves this, someone as strong as you… Putting him into his place.

Your heel gave him one last punch in the genitals before stopping your cruel, cold-hearted exploitation.

“I’m sorry… I’M SORRY!”

His penis was left thrashed and bombed. His tip was all tainted with his cum and the red, swollen skin. Due to being uncircumcised, he was left looking even more deformed. It flopped, sitting between his shaky thighs and leaving Trevor to mourn.

“Oh dear…” You gently stroked his length with your index finger, “Was I too much for you? Do I need to make you feel better?”

Knowing you were bullying his shallowness, he couldn’t care. Trevor nodded shyly and refused eye contact, fuelled by embarrassment and humiliation. He had no filter now – expressing something oddly personal and abnormal.

“Yes please, mommy…”

“Ah, alright, alright.” You whispered, not attempting to question his use of name.

You decided to treat him nice for once. You softly held up his cock and rubbed it until he grew another erection. Trevor, as per usual, choked out a few moans while the sensation of your palm scarred his beaten dick. It was nice, yet decayed.

“C’mon, you got this…” You encouraged as you began sitting on his naked lap, beginning to sit and cuddle his erection with your pussy, rewarding him – “Good boy, c’mon… Help me out here.”

He gasped and breathed, “Fuuuuuuck… Oh, yeah… That feels nice…” His hips jerked up and fully penetrated your sex, both staring at each other fondly.

You sat on his lap, beginning to bounce. His eyes never left yours. Trevor was hypnotised and found himself admiring every detail of your face. The sexual energy had turned into tension. Although you were both physically rubbing against each other, his cock thrusting into your pussy while he remained cuffed to the seat, but there was a need to do more.

“[y/n]…” And he was the first to speak.

“Mhmm… Yes?”

“… [y/n].” His eyes grew hyperfixated upon your lips. He still saw some of the cum stain from his penis. He wanted to taste him on you.

“Fuck, Trevor… Mmm, yeah, yeah, yeah.” You had both increased the pace.

Hands were now buried, graving your mark onto his naked shoulders that were pooled in sweat and saliva. His hips were grinding heavily against your cunt. It was like he ignored the repulsive burning from your heel and mouth.

“Trevor, fuck…”

He whimpered – “I love you, I- I love you.”

“God, you’re still so good.” Surprise lilting your tone of voice.

Now there was pride.

Trevor leaned his head forward and trailed kisses against your neck, enjoying his time between the nuzzle of your collarbone and jaw. It was warm there. It welcomed his lips as you were gifting his cock some quality time after hours of needy torture.

“Shit…”

He loved your moans.

“You’re gonna be so sore tomorrow.” You’d giggle.

“I know,” He responded, “But I don’t care… You can abuse me any day, [y/n].”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it. You’ll learn not to underestimate my desires.” Trevor pulled away from your neck and smirked – “I always get what I want.”

Still a brat, a brat bratting well. You had to physically restrain yourself from choking him relentlessly, and you had successfully kept your cool.

Then he began stumbling again.

“Oh God… I’m gonna cum…”

“Mhm…” You automatically groaned, feeling an orgasm rise.

“[y/n]… Fuck… Shit, shit!”

You bounced up and down before his dick couldn’t take it. You hunched forward and buried your forehead against his as you came all over his beaten cock that shivered and spilt out his own semen. The lack of movement had led to his orgasm filling you up in your soaked cunt. He whimpered and thanked you loudly. He thanked you for keeping his penis warm as you squirted.

Silence summoned. Trevor was cradling you with his head, tilting it to the side to meet yours. He had his eyes closed, still inside you. You both felt your cum combine and spill out of your pussy, streaming down his burning cock. Neither said anything.

The following aftermath of your shared rapture held a close bond. After all the pain he went through, your chest pressing against his was all that mattered. Trevor moved close to your ear and mumbled;

“I’d rather feel pain than nothing. Pain from you. It’s ecstatic. It’s like a drug, sugar. Promise you’ll do this more often? I just feel…”

He paused.

“I feel alive.”

And the compliment alone was a big “thank you” for making him feel something. You smiled at him.

“Only you’d like being a masochist. Never change, Trevor, never change.”

#trevor philips #trevor gta #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #gta 5 #gta #GTA V #grand theft auto #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing

[insult-2-injury]

Request: silco being a Nice GuyTM and not understanding why reader isn't into him. Calls her malady, talks about alpha males (like Vander), and just being overall awful

YOU REQUEST, I DELIVER

I have never in my life written a creature so pathetic as Silco in this fic. Without further ado, here is Nice Guy Silco.

1.3k wc | Humor | Nice Guy Syndrome | Silco humiliating himself over and over again | Misogynist Silco | Hero Complex Silco |

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I said I’m not interested.”

“Pretty thing like you here all alone? Well that just doesn’t make sense.”

You implored the bartender with your eyes to please put you out of your misery, take pity on you and grab your order so you could abandon this pathetic man where he sat, drunk and slovenly, elbow propping him lazily sideways as he sprawled his top half across the bar counter to better look at you.

“I’m not alone,” you said frigidly, “I came here with friends and I intend to leave with them.”

“Oh, c’mon. How long has it been? Must’ve been awhile if you’ve got such a stick up your-”

A new voice sliced in.

“Seems as if someone could use a lesson as to what a lady means when she says no.”

The man beside you stiffened palpably and you frowned, slight unease stirring in your chest as he whipped around, stumbling through his following words with an eerie sobriety. Even the bartender paused, face slackening at the presence of whoever stood behind you.

“We- we came here together, sir.”

“Is that so?” the mystery man responded, his tone holding a note of disbelief. And perhaps a little slice of mischief.

You swallowed down the expanding, nervous stone in your throat and turned, preparing for the worst, a pang of fear coursing through you, but when you locked eyes with the man behind, all that was left behind was confusion. 

Silco. The Eye of Zaun. The Industrialist. 

He was wearing that staple outfit of his; those unduly extravagant clothes of burgundy and gold. And that was all good and fine. It was just… what was that stupid fucking thing on his head?

It was a fedora, you collected, slightly askew and comically small sat atop his already narrow head; a garish royal purple thing with a bright yellow band wrapping the crown, a tacky gold emblem with a cursive S fastening it together in a bow. A black and white feather was stuck into the band like almost an afterthought.

It looked like something you would find in a children’s costume shop.

“No, sir,” you said, realizing suddenly that you’d been silently staring at the thing for far too long as he waited oblivious. “I’ve never met this man. And I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested.”

You’d heard the rumors about the Eye of Zaun, of course, and certainly knew enough to realize that the man beside was in a lot of trouble if he pushed any further.

“She- she’s been flirting with me all night,” he stuttered and Silco’s gaze narrowed.

“As I’m sure you’re well aware, I’m not a man known for my great deal of patience. So, I suggest you leave, lest you do something only one of us will come to regret.”

The man beside you wavered a bit, clearly weighing his limited options in his drunken stupor. You closed your eyes, praying he’d make this easy for everyone and just leave. You’d hardly come here to watch a man slaughtered, and you had a terrible feeling that was where things were headed if he disrespected the fedora-toting man in charge of the Undercity.

“Yeah, yeah. I was heading out anyway.” 

The man stumbled away and Silco glared after him, chest puffed.

“Thanks,” you said, intent on turning back around to finally request your long-awaited drink, “He was getting annoying.”

“Annoying? More than annoying, might I allege. Lacking patience, certainly. Lacking restraint,” he said, shaking his head, crossing his arms tightly, bristling with an off putting protectiveness completely unwarranted for the given circumstances. “Devouring you with his eyes. Lecherous behavior. Beta behavior.”

“...What?”

Silco finally turned to you, letting his arms relax and fall to his sides.

“His plan was to take you home tonight,” he said informatively, as if the fact that a drunk man at a bar had a motive beyond pleasant chit chat would be a mind-boggling revelation to you.

“Anyway, now that the beta has left the building,” he shot you a sly grin, as if you were both in on a hilarious joke. “I suppose it’s high time I introduce myself.”

“M’lady,” he said, and in a movement not so graceful as just clearly choreographed, he reached up with one gloved hand to remove his hat and with a flourish, he pressed it to his chest and bowed theatrically.

“My name is Silco,” he peered up from his bent position with a cocky smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You watched in sheer awe as he then attempted a hat trick. He rolled the fedora up his arm and to his shoulder with an awkward flick of his wrists, but then he lost the momentum, reaching out to snatch it but missing, sending it flying across the bar counter, several pint glasses smashing to the floor.

Almost instantaneously, the bartender grabbed a broom and dustpan and got to work cleaning up, and you found yourself wondering how many times a week this happened. Marching over to the counter, Silco leaned over to the man, hissing something at him and pointing furiously.

“Miss.” Your baffled gaze was pulled toward the bartender, who honestly just looked like he wanted to go home. His words were flat, practiced. “That was entirely my fault, what just happened with the hat. Drinks are on the house tonight.”

Silco shot him a look and he corrected himself.

“Drinks are on the Eye of Zaun tonight.” All you could do was nod. Silco retrieved his fedora and grabbed the two drinks that were set out.

“My sincerest apologies for that display,” he emphasized, glaring back at the bartender, who simply continued sweeping. “So hard to come by good help. Not that I require it.”

You had no choice but to accept the drink he shoved into your hand, noting that he hadn’t even asked what you’d wanted before ordering for you. He barrelled on.

“I can see you desire an explanation. I don’t need the help really, you see, but they need me.” He adjusted the stupid hat on his head, flicking the feather, a wistful look upon his face. “Much like sheep to their shepherd, betas look to their alpha for guidance. An alpha is strong, highly intelligent, the tip-top of the social hierarchy. In reality, life itself is created, flows from the alpha.”

“Here. Watch as they do my bidding.” He waved several yards away to where a few members of his crew stood and made a bunch of hand gestures, clearly indicating for them to go grab the guy who had been harassing you. They stared blankly for a few seconds before turning away and continuing their conversation.

He looked back at you. “It’s a difficult concept to wrap the mind around, I know.” You opened your mouth to speak and he quickly interrupted, looking at you deeply. “It is unfortunate in today’s world, how women are treated as nothing but scraps to heap aside when they’re all used up instead of the treasures they really are. I intend to treat you as such. A treasure to be cherished.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ve rescued many a woman. You weren’t the first and you certainly won’t be the last.” He sighed sadly. “But you are the lucky one I’ve chosen to bed on this night.”

“What?”

“Please have sex with me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Whyyyyy,” he whined, voice pitching outlandishly as he stomped his feet. “I bought you a drink.”

At this point, you would rather be handling the previous drunkard than the man pitching a tantrum in front of you.

“You literally didn’t.”

“Ungrateful,” he seethed, “You are ungrateful. And I have plenty of women at my disposal who would be happy to spend ten minutes with the Eye of Zaun, let alone an entire night.”

He paused to look at you for a moment. You said nothing.

“…Did that change your feelings on the matter?”

“No.”

“Fine,” he hissed, tossing the fedora on the ground and stomping it with his boot several times. “Last time I try and be a nice guy.”

#silco #silco arcane #pathetic silco #NiceGuy!Silco #humor #NotAlpha!Silco #reader insert #thank you sweaty for the ask

[hyenasnake]

Thought tumblr might appreciate this story so I’m gonna relay my Tale Of Woe™️ from the other day.

So my University hosted a trip to the New England Aquarium in Boston this past Saturday, and I love going to Boston so I signed up as soon as the invites went out. Because we’re not children anymore, we were basically set loose after the initial headcount and were told we had to meet at Faneuil Hall (down the street) at 6:30 to get back on the bus. So I enjoyed the aquarium for the majority of the day with my classmates, but had something else on my mind.

I’m a simple person, and I really wanted to stock up on Boston Goodies to take back to school with me. One of the Boston Goodies in particular that I wanted was Ube Cake. I am a greedy little slut for Ube Cake and unfortunately happen to live in an extremely White part of America where nobody makes Ube Cake (and I suck at making cake rolls). So whenever I go to Boston, I go to this little bakery in Chinatown called Bao-Bao to stock up on their pre-packaged Ube Rolls.

So after getting lunch I go to Bao Bao and unfortunately, they’ve sold out of their famous Ube Rolls for the day. But they have individual slices of Ube Crepe Cake! I’m a slut for Ube Cake, but I’m even more of a slut for crepes, so I buy a slice.

The lady who served me puts it in this little fold-up box that I can only describe as being a like a lamination sheet. I did not trust this box from the moment I saw it, especially considering that I was going to have to transport this cake in my backpack. So I resolve to be extra careful, and I check the box every so often to make sure it hasn’t exploded.

Fast forward a few hours and I get on the bus to go back to school. I had nearly had a cake-slip a few minutes prior while getting some stuff from Bova’s but had fixed the box and I just wanted to check it to make sure it was stable.

To my horror, the box has exploded and my Ube Cake is about to fall out into my dirty ass backpack. My containers from Bova’s do NOT have enough room for this piece of cake. I am a cornered animal and I am out of options.

So I begin to shovel this pile of purple crepes and whipped cream into my mouth like a lioness on a kill.

People were getting situated on the bus and just about everyone saw me. One person asked me “…Elsa are you just eating an entire head of cabbage?” I drew a self portrait to capture this primal moment with the help of several eyewitnesses.

So I eviscerate this cake down to one bite, and by now the bus is moving, the roads are bumpy, and I’m starting to feel slightly motion-sick so I put the last bite in one of my other pastry boxes. Now the main issue at hand is that my hands and face are absolutely covered in whipped cream.

On one hand, the school was nice to us and got us a coach bus for our travels because it’s a 5 1/2 hour drive from campus to the aquarium. So there’s a bathroom and a trash can right behind me because I’m sitting towards the back. I get up, throw the box away, and knock on the bathroom door but receive no answer, so I open it. It’s worth mentioning the lock on this bathroom door was broken… And I walk in on a guy who has been hitting on me all semester (despite knowing I’m a lesbian) taking a shit.

I quickly close the door and apologize and go back to my seat, mortified and still covered in whipped cream. I sat there covered in whipped cream for another fifteen minutes rethinking my life choices and every choice I made that led me to this moment, and then finally this guy comes out. I apologize again and he says, with a wink;

“Don’t worry. You haven’t seen all of me yet.”

And pats me on the shoulder before going back to his own seat. I sit there for a moment in silence, and my friend across the aisle is like “what the fuck???” But finally I get to go wash my hands. So I go into this bus bathroom that I hadn’t been in before…

Two Sentence Horror Story: There is No Sink. Only Hand Sanitizer.

This would have been worse if I hadn’t been somewhat of a road trip veteran, and I resolved this by taking some toilet paper and pouring water from my water bottle on it and wiping my hands down with that.

So yeah that’s my road trip tale of terror. How was everyone else’s weekend?

#personal #Boston #New England #Ube Cake #Ube #new england aquarium #uni life #student life #Who knew that cake would awaken such a primal moment? #when I told my mom this I showed her the drawing and she said ‘yeah not the first time I’ve seen you do that’ #so this is normal for me

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Chapter 35

Glass Shards

Warnings: Lady whump, restrained, gagged, forced to watch, attempted rape, crude/explicit language, emeto (not overly descriptive but sure related to:), suffocation, broken ribs (implied), beating, blood, so much blood, a cut throat, impalement and burns, like, severe life ending burns to the face, which brings us to the next part, death death death (yes that’s 3 deaths)

So, uh. I think (outside the two nightmares) this has by far the most warnings for any Glass Shards chapter. I don’t think any of those are a surprise after the last one, though :’)

If you are concerned about the sexual assault, there’s a slightly edited version of this chapter here, where it has been mostly cut out.

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“Leave her… alone.”

Damien’s voice was weak, trembling. The barely concealed terror in it made Merridy’s own fear all the more real. 

The bandit leader dropped her head and stood up. “Or what?” When he didn’t get a reply, he laughed, reaching for Merridy’s bound feet. “Don’t worry, you can watch.” 

He dragged her along, closer to the tree Damien was tied to. The rope around her wrists got caught on something, almost tearing her arms from their joints as she was dragged on. This time, she was sure it was blood she could feel running down her fingers.

The moment the man let go of her feet, she kicked him. Without enough room to move, she barely grazed his knee. He didn’t even waver. Instead, he kicked her in return, and her world shattered in pain. It felt like a lance of fire was tearing her apart. Her chest refused to expand, no matter how desperately her lungs were begging for air. Writhing on the ground, trying to escape the pain, she could only focus on getting small gasps of air past the gag. 

Shouting, muffled at the edge of her consciousness. She knew that voice. The shouts turned into screams, sending a shiver down her spine. 

Damien.

She forced her eyes to open, blinking until her vision cleared and she could see him. Blood dripped off his chin, and his eyes gleamed purple with murderous rage. But she knew him. She could see the terror lurking behind. She had seen it so often, every time he awoke screaming, every time he lashed out in fear. 

The rope around his neck had started to turn red, the skin beneath it rubbed raw and bleeding. It wouldn't take long for bruises to form, just like the area around his left eye was already swelling. It wasn’t only his nightmares she was reminded of. 

Don’t hurt him.

Her jaw felt like it was breaking apart. She rubbed her cheek over the ground, hoping to dislodge the cloth, but it was bound too tightly.

“Gods, I can’t wait to cut your fucking throat,” the man said, kicking Damien in the stomach. “But first, you can watch me fuck your woman. I’m gonna show her what a real man is.”

He drew a dagger, and all color left Damien’s face. Merridy swallowed. The way he pressed himself against the tree broke her heart. For a moment, she remembered every single scar on his body. She was almost glad as the man turned away from Damien and crouched down in front of her. She was less glad about the gleeful grin on his lips as he grabbed her feet and cut the rope apart. He wasn’t careful about it, slicing the skin on her ankle as well.

The moment her legs were free, she kicked him again. She had aimed for his head, but only managed to hit his chest, earning her a disgruntled groan—and a fist to the face. It was the second hit that made her heart stutter, as her attempt to draw breath fell short on a bubbling feeling in her nose. When she tried harder, blood started to burn in her airways, running slowly down her throat.

Merridy threw her head from side to side, trying to shake off the blood, hoping, praying that he hadn’t broken her nose. The man hit her a few times more, but the pain faded against the panic that had taken over her mind. The world turned dark around the edges, wadded in cotton.

A voice. Begging. Pleading. Crying. 

Damien.

With her cheek pressed against the ground, she managed to suck in just enough air to stay conscious. A veil of blood and tears tinted her vision pink. It turned Damien’s tear-streaked face all blurry as she finally found him again.

She kept her gaze fixed on him as the man pulled down her pants and pushed a hand under her shirt. The touch of his fingers on her stomach didn’t feel real. The way he grabbed and squeezed her breast didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real. It felt like her mind and body were breaking apart. Like Damien was the only thing stopping her from giving up, from losing herself.

When the man shoved two fingers inside her, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want Damien to watch this. She didn’t want to see him watching this.

She knew she should fight, but she had no more strength left. Her body was shaking against her will, a bone deep chill creeping into her limbs. The man’s taunting words were lost on her, more so than on Damien. Somewhere, far away, she could still hear him cry in response. It made her cry as well.

The fingers vanished. Nothing happened. Seconds passed, every single one dragging on like an eternity, and still, nothing happened.

A strange, guttural noise finally made Merridy open her eyes, terrified of what new horrors she would find. The man knelt between her legs, one hand wrapped around his erect penis, a look of absolute horror on his face. He made another noise, this one sounding almost pitiful.

“What the fuck, Marek?” one of the other men called over from the fire. “We know your puny dick is a terrible sight, but you should be used to it by now.” 

The two men laughed. Then they started to scream.

“No no no no no no no!” Panicked movement near the campfire. Jumping, flailing. “Fuck! Ah, fuck.”

Merridy couldn’t help but look, finding one of the men doing a grotesque dance next to the fire, while the other was scrambling back from it on all fours. Her own terror was almost forgotten, the gag the only thing that stopped a hysterical laugh from leaving her lips. What was—

The realization hit her like lightning. She whipped her head around, to see Damien staring grimly at the scene, his eyes glowing purple, a look of utter concentration on his face. 

She should use the opportunity he gave her, but she couldn’t move. Her limbs had lost all strength, and she couldn’t form a clear thought. She was still shaking uncontrollably, and the more she tried to suppress it, the worse it got.

The man in front of her scrambled away from her. When he came too close to the fire, he yelped, looking around in a panic. He looked from his hand to his crotch and back to his hand, sobs shaking him as he felt for his face.

She knew it was an illusion Damien was weaving. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the man saw.

“It’s not real.” 

The voice from behind the fire grabbed her attention, making her turn her head.

“It’s a fucking— ah fuck, ow! It’s not real. Listen to me. Listen, for fucks… ow.” The only man who was left standing bent down to pick up a sword. Despite the pained expression on his face, his eyes were hard and cold. “Kill him, then it’ll stop.”

No!

Merridy jerked around, trying to move between Damien and the man. She had to stop him. Helpless as Damien was, he would just kill him. The terror of losing him was stronger than the pain, stronger than the need for air, at least for a moment.

She wasn’t fast enough. The man sidestepped her easily, lifting his upper lip in a sneer as she sank down, a sob getting lost in the gag. The need to breathe caught up with her, and she couldn’t fulfill it quickly enough. Her chest was fluttering, her vision fading. She turned her head, unable to stop crying. If these were going to be their last moments, she had to see him.

But Damien was gone.

Merridy was still staring at the empty ropes hanging off the tree when a wet gurgle sounded. Where a moment before the man had been mid-stride, he was now frozen on the spot, a look of disbelief on his face. The sword clattered to the ground as he reached for his throat, blood bubbling between his fingers.

Damien stood behind him, the bloody dagger in his hand matching the blood on his skin. He kicked the man in the back of his knees, so he would collapse faster, then bent down to pick up the sword. It was his own. He weighed it in his hand. The look on his face could only be described as murderous rage.

“You… fucking.” The man at the fire—the bandit leader, who a moment ago had tried to rape her—was scrambling to his feet. “I’ll gut you like a fucking pig.” 

Perhaps the dead one’s warning words had reached him, or Damien’s concentration was fading. It was obvious that the man wasn’t able to fully shake off the illusion, but it was enough for him to draw his dagger.

Damien took a step towards him, to face him. With the sword, his reach was longer, but he was obviously in pain and unsteady on his legs. The bandit leader easily dodged his attempted strikes, each new one clumsier than the last.

Merridy looked around, searching frantically for anything that might help her. Her gaze fell onto the dead bandit. The dagger Damien had used to cut his throat was lying in the puddle of blood that had spread under him. If she could reach it, she might be able to free herself. Determined, she started to shuffle towards it, only for her muscles to lock up as a fresh wave of pain tore through her chest. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Instead of using her shoulders, she tried to drag herself forwards with her legs. She had to move. To free herself. To help. 

A gloating cry made her whip her head around. Damien had taken too big of a swing. The man evaded his blow, moving to his right side, where he tore the dagger across his ribs. Damien sank to one knee. He held onto the sword for one more moment, then the man kicked him in the chest, and Damien crumpled. With a triumphant howl, the man ripped the sword out of his hand.

“Mhmhm!” Merridy tried to shout, but no word made it out. She could only watch in horror as Damien clutched his bleeding side, seemingly unaware of how the man raised the blade. Move, move, please, move. She sobbed into the gag, knowing that there was no way he’d be quick enough.

The sword came down, and Damien vanished.

Carried by the momentum, the man stumbled a step towards the fire before he managed to catch himself. Damien, suddenly kneeling behind him, rammed his shoulder into the man’s thighs. It was enough to make him lose balance, a terrified scream on his lips as he fell headfirst into the fire. 

He instantly tried to get up, away from the flames, but Damien followed, throwing himself onto the man’s legs. He shoved him back down, getting his knees under him so could use his hand to push down on the man’s back. Damien’s arm was trembling, his face so close to the fire, some of his hair started to crinkle in the heat. 

Agonized screams turned into choked wheezes as the man’s frantic movements slowly stilled. Damien held him down until he stopped struggling, and then a few seconds longer. When he eventually let go, sitting back on his heels and rolling the man out of the embers, the bandit was all but dead. His hair was gone. Where once his face had been, there was only melted, charred skin. His body still twitched in mindless panic, but even if his lungs weren’t already burned as well, no air made it past what was left of his mouth and nose.

Merridy had barely started to comprehend what she was seeing when the smell hit her. She turned her head away, staring up to the canopy, trying desperately to fight back the rising bile. If she threw up now, it was over. She would die, just when it looked like they had a chance to get out of this alive.

The moment she thought she had the nausea under control, she turned her head to watch Damien. Half of his shirt was already drenched in blood as he picked up the sword one last time. He walked over to the third man, who hadn’t joined the fight at all. Cowering on the ground, a tree at his back, he had wrapped his arms around himself, mumbling mindless fragments of words. Damien stopped in front of him and, without hesitation, rammed the sword into his stomach.

Merridy winced as the blade got stuck in the wood, staying upright, even as Damien let go of the handle. When the man tried to reach for the sword, Damien kicked his hand aside, then stomped on his fingers. Without giving him a chance to try again, Damien repeated the procedure with the man’s other hand.

With her heart hammering up to her throat, Merridy watched as the bandit convulsed around the blade, blood foaming at his mouth. She should feel something about it. Pity, perhaps, or at least disgust. She couldn’t.

Damien turned towards her, his face so terribly pale, his eyes dull. His steps were unsteady as he started to walk, as if he could crumple at any moment. The tattered shirt at his side fluttered, revealing crimson blood and pale white where a deep cut had split the skin.

After all that had happened, after all she had seen, it was this that drove her over the edge. Seeing Damien’s ribs made a new wave of nausea wash over her, one she was powerless against. Bile burned in her throat and in her airways, while the lack of air set her lungs on fire. Weakly, she shook her head, as if that motion could succeed in dislodging the fabric, when nothing else had. Vaguely, she was aware of a shadow falling over her, her vision already fading.

Help me. Help me help me help me.

Damien fell to his knees next to her and grabbed the piece of fabric holding the gag in place. In his haste to rip it off, his fingernails scratched her cheek and he tore out some of her hair that had been caught in the knot. With trembling fingers, he pulled out the gag as well, wasting no time with being careful. The moment her mouth was free, he grabbed her shoulder, to turn her to her side. Coughing and spitting, Merridy curled up, sobs alternating with desperate gasps for air.

For a moment, Damien kept his hand on her shoulder, holding her steady and keeping her from collapsing into the spit beneath her face. Only when she had calmed down a little did he let go. She watched as he picked up the dagger from the puddle of blood, then closed her eyes as he cut the ropes that bound her wrists.

It was over. It was over.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on his bloodstained shirt, and on the blood dripping off the hem. It wasn’t over yet.

Damien, she wanted to say. Her voice failed her. “Da… en,” she tried again, as brokenly as if she had screamed all this time, not merely tried to.

Merridy propped herself up on one arm, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and the trembling of her hand. She reached for his arm, and her touch finally made him look up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His face was basically white.

“You’re. Bleeding.” Moving hurt, but she managed to sit up, even if she was still so out of breath, she couldn’t go five seconds without another coughing fit. “Damien?” With her hand on his arm, she tried to catch his gaze. It went straight through her. 

“Damien.” Her voice became shrill as despair gripped her heart. “Damien!”

He didn’t react. Instead, he collapsed into her arms.

[ID: The top image is a banner covered in colorful glass shards. Across it is written the title of the story, glass shards, in a white to bright cyan gradient with a black outline. The font looks like written with a broad paintbrush. All other images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

It’s fine. It’s just a little several inches long cut that goes to the bone :)

Also, if I was still doing my BTHB, which I am absolutely not, this would be the fill for “Burns” :)

#Glass Shards #whump #fantasy whump #lady whump #burns tw #attempted rape tw #gagged tw #forced to watch #blood tw #suffocation tw #my writing

[fanfic-gallery]

Congrats ! <3 Do you think you could write Angst prompt 8 „Why would I ever want to be with you?“

for Shinobu Kocho? :>

Times have changed

✎ Shinobu x Reader

✎ “Why would I ever want to be with you.. ” You questioned, cold gaze clouding over hers, her lips twitching as her smile slowly falls a part..

✎ Tags: angst, gn! reader, one-sided love, unrequited love

: ̗̀➛ Manager's/Author's note: Painful, sheesh. Just a straight punch to the face—— you guys really know how to pick ‘em, huh?

“You like that witch- seriously.. ”

You never got your comrades. Why do they bash your crush of the next greatest demon slayer, the next insect hashira? Yes, you can say she’s harsher than that pretty face makes you believe, but hidden among the mist of hatred was a gentle soul. You discovered this side from a trip the the butterfly mansion one day, strolling through the gardens before catching the sight of Shinobu holding a smile to her lips when speaking to a young girl at her side.

“I assure you, she isn’t as terrifying as you think.. ” You huff and sigh, wasting all your breath to defend your one true love, or you wish was your one true love.

Despite wanting to slice the head off of anyone that insults the beauty of the demon slayer, you had been having tough weeks even trying to introduce yourself to her. Babbling incoherently, stuttering a bunch and leaving a lot of empty spaces between words. Shinobu was not one too kind to it, talking down to you and lecturing your form of speech when she has the time to even waste on you.

“k-Kocho-senpai!”

“..if you’re here to ask about lunch with me, I have some terrible news then.. ”

“Not at all! I- ac-actually.. ”

You shyly turned away, holding out a bouquet of wisteria flowers from behind your back. Shinobu couldn’t help but stare at the purple-pinkish drooping flowers. The shine swirling her pupils fading as she slowly raised her hand, slapping away the bouquet onto the ground.

Your eyes widen, watching the critters and tiny monsters of the animal kingdom sink into the petals, dust and dirt seeping into the colours, turning them hazy and dark. Gaze rolled back towards the demon slayer, body trembling at the look she held, absolutely steaming in anger.

“Do you take the demon slayers as some sort of joke to mess around?”

“n-NO NOT AT ALL!?”

“Well it sure SEEMS LIKE IT!?”

“I- I just wanted--”

“As a matter of the argument.. why would I ever want to be with the likes of you.. you never take anything seriously, always playing around with the other hunters, messing and meddling with me- it’s either you get yourself together or.. I’ll report you the the higher-ups.. they’ll have a fun day dealing with you.. ”

You froze. The feeling of the ground below you shattering like glass, ‘causing you to fall, fall, fall into the depths of despair, with nothing but the tainted bouquet you made with your own two hands. From that day onwards, you took her advice, you left your only friends behind in the dust, you stopped looking and talking to Shinobu.

Until.. 5 years later

“Take the young lady away right this instant, we don’t have much time.. ”

“Yes, my lord!”

Within the pitter-patter of the Kakushi, you stood, clothed hand gripping at your sword’s handle, glancing around the vicinity, watching your men work. Clouds passed and flown, moonlight shining brighter than ever as the scent of wisteria flooded your nostrils. 

“Oya? Y/N-san, what a coincidence~” You slid a side glance, the familiar colour of dark indigos and purple sending pricks at your skin. You lead the conversation to a silence, Shinobu followed along, only watching your helpers for a while before cracking up again.

“Have you ever wondered what you’ll do after Muzan is defeated, a world empty of demons, no needing the works of demon slayers anymore?”

“As in..?”

“Settling down, starting a family, living a long and peaceful life~”

“With you..?”

“Maybe..”

You glare back through the corners, that sickening smile that had haunted you for years on end, her face, her scent, her everything was just a reminder of your early grave. You sigh, taking a few steps forward, twirling around and drawing yourself close to her, lips almost grazing her tinted ears.

“..why would I ever want to be with you.. does this phrase ring any bells?”

You drew back, void-like eyes staring at her own hazy lilacs hues. That plastic smile of hers, slowly, bit by bit crumbling a part as her arms gave up on their strength. Gripping the hilt of your blade once again, you walked away, leaving the insect hashira with a small bid of goodbye.

Enough dilly-dallying, let’s get back to work, we are demon slayers, aren’t we?

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Next page?

#100+ special #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #shinobu kochō #shinobu kochou #shinobu #kny shinobu #demon slayer shinobu #kimetsu shinobu #shinobu x reader #shinobu x y/n #shinobu x you #kny kocho #shinobu kocho x reader

[halfawitch-willow]

Don't Feed The Plants ❁ WSoH Finale

Something dangerous has come to life behind the Garden Grove, and it's taken Willow captive. Her friends fight to save her, but will they get to her in time? After all, the hybrid needs to eat... Takes place Oct 31st 1 // What Do You Want From Me, Blood? 2 // Someone Tell Lady Luck I’m Stuck Here 3 // Long As You Don't Make A Habit Out Of It 4 // Does This Look Inanimate To You? 5 // Show A Little ‘nitiative, Work Up Some Guts Interlude // Most Innocent and Unlikely Of Places 6 // Make a Ship-Shape Showplace of Our Little Shop 7 // There's Only So Far You Can Bend @eilonwy-notjustgirl, @foreverydinger, @edward-andalasia, @blight-magic, @winndeavor, @thegcldenguard TW: blood, mild gore, injury, violence, thorns, neck trauma, hanging (not graphic but just in case), abusive dynamic with a plant, mentions past child abuse ((The finale!!! There's going to be a group epilogue down the line but for now, we've reached the conclusion! This was a huge undertaking and thank you so much to everyone who helped me bring this plot to life. You're the absolute best, I love you guys, and if I ever talk about doing a doc/thread w this many characters at once again, hit me lol))

WILLOW

Halloween was in full swing and Main Street was full of residents in costume, floating from party to party under the light of the moon. Music and revelry spilled out the door at Pixies, the bass pulsing down the whole street and flashing lights lighting up the street.

It was almost enough to obscure the way the Garden Grove seemed to be writhing.

There was a faint golden light coming through the windows at the front, and in that light shadows slithered and moved in the shop. The front door had been cracked at the knob with vines curling along the door frame. The lock was useless, now.

Most who passed just assumed the Grove was going for a Haunted House vibe for Halloween, but behind the Grove, in the smallest of three greenhouses, bigger shadows moved behind frosted glass. The few bits of light that shone out from between the vines and leaves that had grown over the glass seemed to sway, and occasionally, a figure would pass them slowly.

Under the pounding music from the party down the street, you could barely make out two male voices singing softly.

EILONWY

In her pocket, Eilonwy could still hear the faint sounds of vines slithering across the call she'd never hung up. All sounds from Willow had gone silent, and distantly she knew that she was afraid about what that meant. But she had long ago learned to let fear fuel her temper, so as she sprinted down the street with her friends behind her, she focused on one goal. 

That plant was giving Willow back. Even if she had to kill it to make it happen. 

As they got closer, she yanked up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing the bracelet there. With a twirl of her wrist, her long sword shimmered into existence. "Edward, here!" she tossed the blade to him, confident that he would catch it. 

A twirl of her right wrist summoned her Elven sword to her hand right as she reached the door of the last greenhouse where Amity had said the plant would be and she yanked open the door. Instantly, a vine shot towards her, and she reflexively swiped down at it. Inside, she heard the plant scream. 

"Give. Willow. Back. Now."

WILLOW

The scream wasn't just from the plant. Willow screamed as the sword sliced cleanly through the vine, stumbling and clutching her head. She stood across the room in the middle of the wildly overgrown greenhouse. The hybrid had spread to several of the other raised beds, smaller purple and white flowers tucked amongst the black leaves. The flowers that were being overtaken swayed and seemed to fight back weakly.

Willow looked towards the group at the door in fear, her eyes glowing green and tears tracing down her freckled cheeks. Vines were curled around her neck and arms, blood dripping down in the places where thorns bit into her skin and from where her legs had been torn up by the same vines. Her concealment stone was buried in one of the beds, and she stood before them in her bloody costume with all the parts of her she tried to hide exposed. The scars. The ears. The tail. Her.

The massive flower on the back wall shivered and twitched with vines curling in the center like rows of dark, sharp teeth. "Leave!" it snarled in Willow's voice, even though her lips didn't move. The vines tugged at her and Willow whimpered in pain as she was pulled closer to the flower. "You're hurting her!"

TONY

When Tony had seen Eilonwy make way for the exit of the party he hadn’t hesitated. There was a text message typed out, unsent, in his pocket to Ian with an explanation. Later when Ian asked he would curse that he’d simply missed hitting the send button and apologize profusely but for now he had a task at hand.

Listening to Lon’s phone had sent a chill down his spine and he hurriedly hummed the enchantment song for the blade to come magically popping into his hand. Love you, babe. I’ll see you on the other side of… whatever this goddamn plant monster is.

At least he hoped so.

Coming into the building to see a giant writing plant wasn’t the best but this was Swynlake. They got attacked by demons on a not-infrequent-timeline and magic tended to just punish them for existing in the only Magick-Friendly Community in England (a little rude but it was what it was).

“We’re hurting her?! Look what you’ve done to her!”

EDWARD

Edward, as was unfortunately often the case, had little idea what was actually happening, but his instincts tended to serve him well and Eilonwy's sudden tension was reason enough to trust her, to follow. 

He felt a bit out of sorts without his own weapon, eyes going wider an instant as that vicious green appendage lunged outward, the writhing mass of devilish bloom shrieking like a nightmare. 

Not nearly as a nightmare as Willow though, trapped and fearful, the sort of horror in her helplessness that struck Edward as solidly as the hilt of the sword Eilonwy passed to him as his fingers wrapped around it and drew the blade in a smooth, practiced, motion to his side. 

His stance changed, the relaxed edges of it melting away into proper form, his eyes narrowed and their mirth bled away with the line of his lips drawn to a thin line. 

He said nothing, he didn't need to announce his intentions; they were clear in the subtle adjustment of the hilt in his grasp and the shift of his shoulder to brace for the weight of it as his sight snapped to that rustling, leafy monstrosity. 

Edward didn't know exactly what was going on but he took that step towards the door regardless, because he didn't care where that creeping, thorny creature had spawned from; it had hold of Willow and that was all he really needed to know.

AMITY

Amity didn't come with a sword. She came with herself, and her pot of golem, and all the could have should have would haves that she'd been carrying since she and Willow were little girls. They buzzed like firebees in Amity's brain on the way to the greenhouse, torturing Amity as they had the very first day she ever saw Willow. You should have apologized then-- then this wouldn't be happening now. Or: You could have destroyed the hybrid when you saw it-- why couldn't you see it would become the monster it is?

Those things wouldn't serve her when it came to stomping on monster plant ass though. Which she planned to. 

She also planned to burn the motherfucker to the ground. 

And so when she skid into the greenhouse, Amity opened her palms-- she'd drawn with sharpie marker the runes for fire on them. Her golem slithered out of its pot and wrapped around her hands like boxing gloves, then immediately lit with eerie, supernatural purple fire. A vine went snapping toward her like a whip. Amity blocked it, grabbed it, and lit it aflame. 

"WILLOW!" she called as she yanked the screaming, burning vine, using it as a rope to try and drag herself closer. "WILLOW, WE'RE HERE!"

WINSTON

Winston, admittedly, had not been a part of the group of young adults that had come barreling into the Grove after hours. Rather, he'd been part of the night shift, and had learned what, truly, finally, had horrible control of his coworker. 

At first, he'd believed the vibes and flowers were some form of Magick, done up for Halloween. But, Winston was not a stupid man, and the screaming, the monstrous voice, it all told him one thing: Willow was in danger, as were those kids. 

Yes, they may have had swords, Magick, what have you, but he held an innate instinct to protect those people around him, especially if he cared about them. 

In his own way, he did care for Willow. She'd become like a little sister, and seeing the way vines twined about her figure, dug into her flesh, and used her voice made him seethe. 

Yet there was no trace of anger in his voice when he chose, instead, not to fight the creature, but to speak to it. Directly. 

"You say they're hurting her. How? All they want is their friend back, darling. Won't you give her to them?"

HUNTER

Hunter should've known something would happen the moment he donned his armor tonight.

One did not just wear the armor of the Golden Guard. It was a mantle, a symbol.

The Golden Guard existed to protect Emperor Belos. And Belos wasn't here, but the helmet and all that it meant still weighed heavy on Hunter's shoulders.

(Maybe too heavy -- he hadn't worn it in some time -- had it always been this heavy -- had he always struggled to bear it --)

Hunter flanked the back, polearm ready, face masked. With a grunt, he slashed down one of the vines as it snaked towards his friends. He was on high alert.

WILLOW

The moment the vine caught fire, the greenhouse shook with the hybrid and Willow's screams. Willow stumbled back, grabbing the same vine as Amity, and it withered away under her touch before Amity could get too close.

"YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!" the hybrid screamed, howling in the voices of Harvey and Gilbert Park. "She's mine, you don't deserve her!"

More vines rose from the ground, thornless, and lashed at the group.

"No one is going to hurt her ever again, I won't let you!" it cried out. "I love her! She's mine!"

EILONWY

"We aren't leaving without her." 

The light that often swirled around Eilonwy began to ignite into little sparks of lightning as her temper mounted. She didn't know the voices the plant spoke in and she didn't care. It was going to give Willow back. That was the only way this ended. 

"Tony, there's a pouch of fairy dust in the main shop. Get it for me now." He nodded and turned to race off back towards the front as the rest of the group surged in through the door of the green house. 

Mentally apologizing and promising to pay for it later, she smashed the door into the building with her sword so it couldn't be closed behind them, turning back just in time to slice through a huge vine that was aiming for her throat. 

Something sharp sliced along her ankle and she winced as she reflexively stabbed down at it.

EDWARD

The words struck a bitter chord with Edward, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth with the sort of suffocating control those voices screamed over and painted it as love. Oh how that was a distant feeling he thought he'd never recognize again, and his worry snapped to anger swiftly over it. 

He didn't have firepower, didn't have magic; his reasoning was simply that. He wasn't as useful in a direct assault the way some of the others were. 

His eyes pivoted swiftly, across Amity, Eilonwy, to Hunter, Winston, and settled back on the gleam of gold in Hunter's motions. 

His own sword arched, steel sweeping to the thick resistance of those vibes as he stepped into the spot Eilonwy lunged from, keeping sight of Amity at his shoulder; they stood a better chance with magic if they didn't have to spend it defending themselves. 

"They would do better with a clearer path," he called to Hunter, feeling it sufficed to get the point across as he turned his attention sharply to the crowding vines and his sword flashed again to reflect their eager rustling reach towards the others.

AMITY

Amity only had one mission, really: get to Willow. She would burn a path to her. She would burn the whole greenhouse down if that's what it took. She just had to-- get there. Come through for Willow now after so many years of failing her, when Willow needed her most. 

And so although Amity winced with each screech of the plants, she couldn't stop. She sent another fiery punch into a thorny vine and then somersaulted forward, avoiding another as it tried to crash down on top of her. "CAN YOU HEAR US? WILLOW-- WE'RE COMING!" Amity called out.

HUNTER

Hunter nodded at Edward's instructions. He slashed his polearm across some of the vines, back-to-back with Edward, clearing a path for the others to get through. 

The blade of his polearm glowed slightly, his own magic pulsing through it. This gave the blade an extra sharpness, an extra reach, as the glowing gold lashed out and swiped through a thicket of vines.

Hunter may not have completed this exact mission before, but he'd had many like it. Get to a place. Destroy a thing. Clear a path. Keep people safe. It wasn't Belos, though. But that didn't make it unimportant. It was his friends. They were almost as important as Belos.

(Or were they more important? Or was that a terrible thing to think?).

WILLOW

The hybrid screamed and thrashed as they cut their way through the vines that had taken over the greenhouse. It was starting to tire as it kept having to regrow new vines, and so the vines around Willow's neck and arms tightened as the hybrid started drinking from her faster. After all, it was half vampire rose, and vampire roses were predators first.

Willow sobbed as the pain and fear cut through the control the hybrid had over her, and the light in her eyes flickered like a dying lightbulb. "C-cut me loose," she choked out, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"Stop it!" the hybrid hissed in a chorus of voices.

"Please!" Willow gasped, crying out in pain as the vines wound tighter.

"Just a little more," it soothed as the vines yanked Willow back, this time in Willow's voice. "Your blood made me, and now it's going to save us."

Willow was barely staying upright anymore, the vines doing most of the work to keep her on her feet.

EILONWY

Eilonwy surged forward into the space that Hunter and Edward were creating for her, feeling her awareness split in a dozen directions - back towards the entrance where Tony would be coming soon with the fairy dust, forward to where Amity was burning a path, to the sides where her boys were battling to protect the rest of them, off to the back where the older man she didn't know was still trying to talk the plant down and pull its attention his way. 

And forward to Willow. Always to Willow who needed them. 

Her ribs screamed at her as she suddenly lunged to the side to avoid a stabbing vine (she was not well enough for this - she didn't care), but that stabbing pain was distraction enough that she didn't see the thorny vine come around the other side and wrap around her wrist, digging in tightly enough that she reflexively opened her hand and dropped her sword - which disappeared a moment later into the mass of plant life. 

Looking at Willow, she knew she couldn't get there in time, the plants had kept her too far away. Too bad. 

Standing in between Edward and Hunter, she reached for every piece of light that she could, motes of light rushing towards her from the street lights, the gleam of Hunter's weapon, the flickering lights overhead, and even the glow of the plants themselves. Within moments she had made herself a beacon, lightning flickering around her hair and in her eyes. She shoved her hands forward and the arc of lightning lanced through the air to slice through the vine around Willow's neck, cauterizing it and igniting the plants behind her.

WILLOW

The hybrid shrieked as the vines wrapped around Willow were sliced clean through. Willow fell forward, reaching for her friends as she stumbled to her knees and failed to catch herself before hitting the ground. The severed vines around her arms and neck went slack.

"NO! NONONO MINE!" the hybrid screamed, vines rising up to try and cover Willow and drag her back.

TONY

Eilonwy had said to go get fairy dust so that's what Tony did. Besides, he wasn't magically gifted or even that good in a physical fight. Punching a necromancer came to mind at the same time he felt his phone buzzing frantically in his pocket. _Sorry, Ian!_ So retrieving something useful? Well Tony could certainly do that.

Ducking from this greenhouse under angry vines and away from the sounds of combat, he instead headed toward the bag he'd heard about. The plants in that area seemed to swell and swarm, urging him forward rather than turning him away.

"Thanks a million," he murmured as the fairy dust was literally handed to him by a very pretty flower. What kind of flower? Tony had absolutely no fucking clue but it felt rude not to say thanks. The plant responded by shoving him back out the door with the grace of, well, a very shivering flower. Now he just had to get back and hope that he wasn't too slow.

"LON! WHERE AM I PUTTING THIS?!"

EDWARD

The chaos around him registered to Edward in parts, divided in his mind by degree of urgency. With Eilonwy lit brightly and Amity a glimmer of fire and anger, Edward was held in position by the vines that swelled around them and threatened to surge from behind as they made progress forward, keeping the intruding vines at bay on the right.  

He couldn't concern himself as much with the left side, counterpoint to his own efforts, he knew Hunter was there and perfectly capable, Eilonwy and Amity advancing, Winston still a blur in the corner of his eye. 

When her sword was lost Edward drew his own to slice through the vines that burst forward eagerly while that dusty, rasp of leaves voice yowled from the plant and chilled him to the bone with the sound, uttering a hiss of his own at the drag of thorns across his shoulder, ignoring it the next second as Tony's voice reached him and he pivoted quickly, nearest to the other man as he rushed back through the door. 

Edward shoved his boot down on a thrashing vine with a wide swing of the sword to split the others that shot out towards Tony, a spill of sticky sap spreading from the ruined, thorny bits. 

"Go," Edward urged him, taking another step and leaving a thick vine falling to the floor to clear the path for him to the others.

AMITY

Amity was almost to Willow.

That was all that mattered. Not the thorns that had slashed at Amity's cheek. Not the thorns that grabbed at their black dress and tore. She kept fighting through it, burning as many plants as she could. 

Willow hit the ground. Amity cried out for her again and again. "Willow! I'm here! Willow!"

Here, how many years late? 

She hoped it wasn't too late.

WINSTON

Talking wasn't working. A pity. However, it looks as though the others had wounded it, enough so that Willow was now on the floor. 

Now, whatever they did couldn't hurt her, theoretically.

"Tony!" Glancing around, Winston sees him coming through the door, through the vines. He's closest. "Grab the green bottle!" 

He would not, in fact, be yelling the word 'weed killer.' That was like telling the person you're trying to kill that you're going to kill them. 

That now done, Winston begins to wade closer, through the vines, toward Willow.

HUNTER

Hunter wasn't unfamiliar with working with a team. There were a lot of guards who worked under Belos. 

But this felt different.

For one, he only really trusted Eilonwy and Edward in battle here, since he'd fought alongside them before. Amity was a wildcard; he knew she was capable, but also, he didn't really know much else about her. But mostly, he kept an eye on Tony and on the man who worked here.

The vines recoiled at his blade, but his pulse of raw magic snapped through some of the more resistant tendrils. 

At the stranger's instructions, Hunter's eyes darted towards the green bottle.

"I'll back you up!" Hunter called to Tony.

TONY

Tony didn’t really wait for any permissions before barreling forward, though they did still come. Edward and Hunter (who he knew through the grapevine and little else, definitely gonna need to buy that guy a drink later) were covering his sides and he ducked under furious vines to help Hunter grab the bottle Win had pointed out.

“Remind me to only order delivery from the Grove, Boss!” He laughed despite the situation. He tried to keep the pixie dust as far from the bottle as he could for fear of it being knocked out of his hands. Besides, he didn’t know if herbicide mixed with pixie dust.

Reaching Willow wasn’t easy, Tony stumbled into Amity as he did, and shoved the pixie dust into her hand roughly. “Ahhhhh! Please fuckin’ fix this!”

WILLOW

When Eilonwy had cut the vines tethering her to the hybrid, Willow had felt everything at once. All the feelings that it had tried to smother with its own crashed into her, and Willow laid on the floor and just let it run over her. Fear, anger, pain - oh, Titan, pain - exhaustion, and all of the emotions from the plants the hybrid had tried to smother, shouting in her head. She was dizzy and trembling, but couldn't tell if it was from the onslaught of emotional distress or the blood loss.

Over it all, Amity's voice broke through, calling out to her. Willow rolled slowly onto her stomach and pushed herself up on shaky arms, withered bits of vines falling from around her neck and arms. She could hear the sounds of fighting, the hybrid's howls as its vines were cut down, and people yelling. Fighting to get to her.

She managed to push herself onto her knees and looked up just in time to see Tony make a break for her. The pouch in his hands was familiar, and she reached out with trembling hands to catch the pouch. Golden pixie dust spilled onto her fingers.

"NO, DON'T!" the hybrid screeched as Willow turned the bag out onto the floor and dropped both hands into the shining dust.

Thorny vines rose up and aimed for Willow and Tony, but a massive Wolfshowl shot out of the ground and snatched the vines in its maw, ripping into them with a snarl. Three more burst up around the group and began to attack the vines, each one easily the size of a real wolf.

Willow raised her hands dripping gold and Sunbursts and Lantern Lilies sprung up and filled the room with light so bright it was almost blinding.

"STOP IT!" the hybrid sobbed. It rapidly shifted between voices as it begged Willow to stop, crying out her name and begging with the tongues of the very people it fought against. Flush with magic, Willow glared over her shoulder at the monstrous plant and her tail lashed behind her.

"Shut up," Willow snarled, voice mangled through her bleeding and bruised throat, and the hybrid recoiled from the power there. Willow's vision burned green, but she could see perfectly clear.

She grabbed the bottle of weed killer from Tony as she rose to stand on shaky legs. The first Wolfshowl curled around her to keep her upright, even though the places where it touched her, it seemed to rot.

Willow popped the top of the bottle open with the help of the Wolfshowl and chucked it right into the center of the flower, and it *screamed*. All of the smaller blossoms that lined the room cried out and the vines writhed and twisted, and Willow stumbled past them all. She left a trail of pixie dust after her, the bottoms of her feet coated with potting soil and glitter. 

"You want more blood?" she bit out, grabbing the edge of the flower bed with one hand and reaching deeper into the shrub with the other until she had the stalk in her sticky, blood-soaked hand. "Take it."

Willow, covered in pixie dust and dark blood, poured all of her fear and rage into the hybrid, and it howled as it started to die and wither from the inside out. She overwhelmed it right back, letting the stress and the terror from the past month - and further, honestly - tear it apart. The entire greenhouse writhed as they all began to wilt, even the plants Willow had conjured. They defended the other people in the greenhouse even in their final moments, making sure the hybrid couldn't take any of them with it.

Within moments, the once living, writhing mass of plant life was a dry, dead husk, with Willow in the center. She pulled her hand back and took two steps away before her legs went out and she fell to her knees again. Wrapping her arms and her tail around herself, Willow just stared blankly ahead for a moment, before she took a short, shaky breath.

And started to sob.

AMITY

As soon as the pixie dust touched Willow's fingers: magic.

That's all it was. Magic, springing to life. Magic, blooming in petals. Magic, snapping, with thorn-like teeth and a carnivorous appetite. It blossomed, it bled, it blinded everyone-- Amity had to turn away and shut her eyes when the Sunbursts and Lantern Lilies did their thing. But when Amity looked back, it was still dazzling. And Willow was in the middle of it all.

Amity no longer shouted or cried or begged. She instead said her friend's name quietly all to herself. Willow. Willow, making everything grow. Saving herself. 

Then as soon as it started, it was over. The flowers shut. The hybrid died. The greenhouse was littered with its dead parts and Willow was still in the center, but now she wasn't golden with magic-- now she was alone.

Not for long though.

"Willow!" Amity reached her friend first. Maybe she shouldn't have, but her child instinct took over as Amity flung her arms around her, holding her tight. "Titan's breath, are you okay? Willow, look at me--" Amity pulled along long enough to cup her friend's wet, dirty face in her hands.

WILLOW

Willow let herself be tugged into Amity's arms, leaning against her with no care for the blood that was definitely smearing across Amity's skin and clothes. She was crying quietly, hiccuping with each little sob, and trembling like a leaf.

When Amity cupped her face, Willow leaned into the touch, looking at Amity with clear green eyes that were glassy behind her crooked glasses. Her expression crumpled into agony. "I'm so sorry," she keened, like a dying animal.

EILONWY

As Willow's light flooded the greenhouse, Eilonwy closed her eyes and reached out for every piece of it she could, the brilliant energy swirling around her before soaking into her skin. When she opened her eyes again, the sparks of lightning had faded, but she was able to stand up straighter as she ignored the dull pounding in her arm and in her side. 

But they were surrounded by devastation. 

A quick glance confirmed that Edward was already healing. Hunter seemed shaky, but unharmed. Which also seemed to be true of Tony and Winston. Her sword had been revealed by the withering of the plants, so she knew she would be able to pick it up in a moment, along with Willow's phone. The call was still going. 

But all of that could wait as she bolted the rest of the distance across the greenhouse to where Willow and Amity were standing. 

(Yes, she was vaguely aware of the ears and the tail which had definitely not been there before, but that was a side issue and she wasn't worrying about it right now.)

"Hey, Willow, it's okay, we're here for you. We're here." She slid one arm around Willow's waist and leaned against her side.

WILLOW

Willow had to lean hard on Amity as they stood, dizzy from crying and blood loss. Her legs and arms were shredded, and she could feel warm blood dripping down her chest and back from her neck.

Eilonwy rushed to her, leaning in tight, and Willow flinched. She'd put them all in danger- they should be furious with her! And she'd used her magic, let it tear through her and burn her from the inside out, and all of her lies and deceit had been laid bare before all the people she'd worried about the most.

Instead, Eilonwy murmured soft reassurances to her, and Willow sobbed. Her hand crossed her stomach to lay over Eilonwy's. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, voice rough and thick. "I-I should have- I wanted to- I'm sorry."

TONY

It was suddenly over and Tony barely understood how any of it had even begun. The truth about Tony's involvement in situations like these always tended to boil down to: Someone I care for is in danger so I shall help. Sure, he didn't know Willow as well as most everyone else standing here breathless but Tony's loyalties were still drawn in the sand anyway.

Now came the aftermath, the part Tony was not necessarily better at.

"You're alright, Willow," Tony crooned in what he hoped was a smooth tone. He kept his distance, however, not wanting to crowd her too much. He stood at a point between Eilonwy and Winston, assessing.

EDWARD

Edward had found himself occupied with a particularly angry vine thrashing to and fro, but the vicious floral appendage had shuddered and tensed when the area lit up, his eyes jerking from the sword he plunged into it to pin the writhing monstrosity to the ground and to Willow, a gleam of light everywhere but dancing around Willow at its center. 

He felt the sword nearly jerked from his hand when the other plants surrounding him snagged the vine and jerked it away, twisting and rendering it broken. 

Edward watched, eyes a bit wider at the magic, then troubled as Willow folded in on herself after, the wild rustling, dying thing falling to ruin.

The sword was already tucked to his side, a few steps taken towards her, but he slowed as Amity and Eilonwy caught hold of her, his attention making a quick sweep to be certain everyone else was sound and accounted for; Hunter and Winston looked well enough, the small group clustered around Willow as well. 

Edward exhaled, a twinge of relief in the breath. 

He looked to Hunter and Winston again then, thinking of the blood, the shakiness in Willow's stance. "She will require something to hold warmth with that much blood lost," he pointed out quietly, shock was already evident, but he wasn't certain where to locate a blanket or something of that sort for her to wrap up.

AMITY

Part of Amity wanted to whisk Willow away-- sequester her off in a room all their own. Amity would wipe the blood from her face and hands. Amity would tend her wounds and wrap them. Amity would draw a blanket over her shoulders and talk to her in a low, calming voice, until Willow stopped crying, until Willow stopped apologizing. And she'd tell her, when Willow was ready to hear it, you were brilliant. She'd repeat it until Willow believed it.

But Amity couldn't do any of that. It was selfish. Willow hadn't belonged to Amity in a very long time.

And so Amity reluctantly shifted off to the side to let everyone come closer, biting her tongue so she didn't bark at Tony or Edward to stop crowding her already. Edward at least had a good suggestion though.

"Right, um--" Amity traced the runes she'd drawn into her hand, but changed them just slightly so her hands just grew warm insteads of catching on fire. She put them around Willow again. "We should get you back to the dorms too."

WILLOW

"No!" Willow blurted out, looking at Amity with wide, panicked eyes. "Please, no, not the dorms. I-I have stuff here. I have some of Papa's potions-"

She attempted to turn and walk towards the corner where she had her rolled up sleeping bag and some other items she wanted to have at work that she didn't want anyone to find, but her legs were much weaker than she thought and she stumbled upon her first step and barely caught herself. Her tail lashed under her heavy skirts and Willow felt more tears roll down her cheeks.

What a mess she'd made.

WINSTON

Willow stumbles and Winston jerks toward her side, one stride then two, and he's got her steadied, bends and then lifts, and she's cradled carefully in his arms. 

Winston didn't care about what she'd done. She hadn't done anything. "Hush, Willow, darling," he says, voice gentle as he adjusts his hold, careful, ever so careful. "We've got you." 

Her costume was heavy, sure, but none of the others save, perhaps, the one in armor could have lifted her. Winston didn't mind. He'd done very little as it was, hadn't known what to do, really, save to make sure none of them got themselves killed. 

That had succeeded, so now. Here they were. 

"Where are the potions? Or," he glances up, over, to the group. "If any of you have an idea?"

HUNTER

In the calm after the battle, Hunter counted his heartbeats.

They were precious, he'd learned, and as each one bubbled in his chest, he grew a bit terrified, convinced it was going to be the last. But the next came. Then the next. Then the next. 

He took a deep breath.

Right -- he oriented himself. There was no time to waste on silly matters.

"I'll look," he offered, and started going through Willow's things and the surrounding area. If he was looking at the potions, then he was not looking at Willow, and how small and battered she looked and how that made his heartbeat scatter even more.

WILLOW

Willow could not remember the last time she had been picked up. It must have been ages ago, back when she was small enough for her Papa to lift. She went mute in Winston's arms, feeling young and small and scared. She sniffled pathetically, and wanted to curl up under the dried up remains of that stupid plant and sleep forever.

"Blue liquid, copper wax," she called out once she could form the words, voice raw. Willow cautiously leaned her head against Winston's shoulder and after a moment, let herself sink into his hold.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to his collarbones, tears still rolling down her cheeks and stinging the cuts along her neck.

EILONWY

"We're going back to my place," Eilonwy said decisively. She certainly wasn't going to leave Willow alone, and it would be more comfortable for the group of them anyway, however many of them there were. 

"Laurel will be out at the Court for a few more hours anyway which means we'll have the place to ourselves. Edward, could you help gather Willow's things? Hunter, you're the best one to take care of the potions once you find the one that Willow needs for now, so if you could carry the rest of those. Amity, if you could keep using your magic to help her stay warm and Winston if you can keep her steady, the journey isn't far. Tony, if you could get back to the house first, get the door open, get the kettle on, and get out any of the food we have in there. I have a feeling we'll need a lot." 

She spoke with the confidence that she would be obeyed in this, already primed to steamroll anyone who might argue with her and yet certain that at least the majority of the group would know better. 

Turning, she scooped up Willow's phone and finally ended the call that had been running the entire fight and picked up her own sword as well, giving the small twirl that sent it back into the bracelet so she had her hands free again. She didn't worry about if anyone was watching as she did so. 

Then she marched over to the ruined door and stood nearby, ready to fix a shield of light into place over it until the morning came and they could get a real replacement in.

TONY

Tony felt like he stood at the edge of this group, his brain buzzing at each word that was shared by the others. It made sense, he had the least connections here within the walls of the Grove, but it was a bit disorienting to try and keep up with everything people were saying.

Eilonwy’s voice cut through the chaos and his eyes snapped to her face as she gave him instructions as it had before. He could do those things, they were very simple but he knew how much food and tea would make a difference.

“On it, Lon.” He nodded and started for the door, finally pulling his phone out to check on the constant buzzing. “Fuck!” He’d never hit send on his text to Ian. His boyfriend was clearly worried sick.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” He answered the ringing as he darted across the town to get the Lightfoot place ready for the rest of their arrival. “I typed out a text and meant to send it! I can’t, um, I don’t know how to explain it all but meet me at your mum’s house ASAP. We’ll explain everything there. I’m sorry and I love you!”

I’m in the doghouse for sure.

EDWARD

Edward was already in motion, so his attention shifted fluidly to the task at hand while Tony darted past. He paused himself to return the sword to Eilonwy to return to its magical holding spot and joined Hunter where he was still searching. 

Once Hunter had sorted through things and removed what was needed Edward gathered up the rest, careful to tuck everything together carefully just in case as he rose from where he had knelt to pick up the items. 

He cast another glance towards Willow, a pang of worry striking him, even though the danger had passed, because she was such a gentle soul, and the worry of the horrors of that night settling on her gripped at him. 

She had friends though, they would see her through, he would see her through it with the rest, and just hope the monsters faded. 

He glanced at Tony, a blur of motion and anxious energy, not the first time they'd faced trouble together and come out of it, and Hunter looking steady but so very silent and grave, and even Amity who he barely knew but admired her bravery now and Winston's compassion. When his eyes fell on Eilonwy he smiled, seeing her shine as she led always amazed him.  

The monsters would fade. 

Edward nodded, mostly to himself, and allowed a moment to catch his breath, as everyone else gathered themselves.

AMITY

Amity had said the wrong thing.

Amity didn't really have time to dwell on this, though later, definitely, she would. She'd wonder why she reacted so strongly. What was at the dorms that was so horrible? Were more people bullying Willow? The thought would set Amity's brain on fire, and she'd keep herself up for hours sketching out new, gruesome abominations to punish any of the made-up villains in Amity's head. She'd make them scream and cry and bleed. To make up for not doing so before-- with Boscha and the rest. 

But right now, she just wanted Willow to be okay. So Amity's eyes darted to the ground, and she nodded stiffly at Eilonwy's orders. 

She stepped to Willow's side, then, hesitating just once, gently put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "We got you," she murmured.

WINSTON

Willow curls up into his shoulder after a moment, sniffling, crying, and Winston’s chest aches for her. He makes a soothing noise, a hand running soft fingers over her hip, her side, just the part where he can reach. If they'd been sitting, he'd have rocked her, too, but they weren't so he didn't. "It's alright, Willow. We'll fix it," he murmurs, before diverting just attention back to the people around him. 

He listens to the blonde, Eilonwy, and decides he rather likes her, her attitude and her sword notwithstanding. She has a jut to her chin that said she didn't give a shit what anyone else said; that was what they were going to do. Luckily, all Winston cared about right now was getting Willow somewhere safe and warm, the other kids too. 

He does wince in sympathy, however, when he hears Tony's frantic phone call. If he needed help, uh, getting something to fix that later, might be a good idea. 

When Amity comes in close, Winston shifts so she can be closer to the girl in his arms, knowing she may need it, and offering her a warm, kind smile. He doesn't know her, doesn't know anyone really except Tony and Willow (and Eilonwy and Ian, through some stories Tony has shared of them at work), but he could be the kindness they needed, the steadiness. 

Once he was sure they were ready, they moved toward Tony, Hunter, Edward, and the door out.

HUNTER

Hunter looked for the potions.

It was a job he could do. He knew his potions well. He could focus on that and not the fact that his heart was still racing. (Or the fact that Amity Blight was here, and he didn't know what to make of that, except he didn't want to seem like a failure in front of her, which was a silly feeling, but a feeling nonetheless).

He clung onto Eilonwy's words, her voice really, confident and sparkling through the chaos. When he retrieved the potions and stood up tall, he nodded to Edward, and then followed the group out the door.

He trailed behind, glancing briefly over his shoulder as he clutched the potion bottles, making sure that no tendril stirred, no vine curled, and nothing lurked in the shadows.

WILLOW

Willow might have fought against Eilonwy's directions if she was still standing, though she wasn't sure what else she could do. She didn't want to go back to the dorms and walk through the party bleeding and broken and scared, and she definitely couldn't stay in the greenhouse like she had been. But curled up in Winston's arms with Amity's hand on her shoulder and Eilonwy, Edward, and Hunter in front, Willow couldn't find it in herself to protest.

She wanted to let them hold her up. She wanted to trust them.

So she curled her tail so it was hidden under her skirt and covered her exposed ear and face with her hair so at least those wouldn't be obvious as they walked through the busy streets. She couldn't do anything about the bloody lines gouged into her skin, or the dirt and pixie dust that clung to her fingers and feet. 

As they left the greenhouse, Willow reached out once more to see if anything was left alive. Any of the Gazing Narcissus, or the Wolfhowls, or the Sunbursts. Even the Whisperers or Vampire Roses that the hybrid had smothered and choked out of the bed. But nothing responded to her call, no happy greeting or cry for attention, no all-encompassing adoration. Her magic had burnt it all down to the root, leaving nothing to save, and all Willow could do was tuck her face against Winston's shoulder and quietly weep.

#willow shop of horrors #c. eilonwy llyr #c. tony rydinger #c. edward andalasia #c. amity blight #c. winston deavor #c. hunter belos #p. sunflower #p. plight #p. winlow #tw blood #tw gore #tw violence #tw injury #tw thorns #tw neck trauma #tw mentions of child abuse #//hOLY SHIT YALL #p. daylily

[tsunderedoctor]

Can I have a matchup purple💜?

I'm an INTFP and an introvert at heart. As you know I love anime, dogs and ball things morbidly cute.

I love music and I love quality time. I'm not touchy touchy and I am not romantic in any shape or form.

I may love things dangerous, you know.

Anyway thank you ❤

Yes you can, Mel~!

Carrot

This bunny is a lovely lady for you! She is extroverted, so it helps bring you out of your shell when you need it and her kindness goes beyond what is expected of her. She can be a bit touchy, but she will respect your boundaries if you tell her it’s too much! 

Totally watches anime with you and fangirls! She likes action and slice of life animes the most, but will watch horror if you are with her. Carrot also enjoys cute things and will buy you items she sees that reminds her of you!

As for dangerous, she has her own scary side, but that doesn’t mean she will hurt you, rather she will protect you from any danger that threatens you! On full moons she turns into her Sulong form, showing her truest nature!

Usopp

This smarty pants is another great match for you! He loves to invent new things and would find sci-fi animes to be interesting! He can be a bit nerdy as well, so you two can nerd out together~! He is a bit of a coward though, so you might handle any danger on your own-

He will tell you how cool and amazing he is, but once it comes to show his skills, Usopp will chicken out. Despite being a liar, he is very loyal and isn’t very romantic either, rather he sees you as his bestest friend than lover! 

Might not care for cute things, but he definitely goes out his way to make your favorite characters. Whether they be keychains, pins, or some sort of accessory, he has your back!!

Doflamingo

You said you liked danger! Well here you go! This man is yandere at it’s finest and has no problem putting you in your place if needed. I think you would be good for him however, and can help mellow out his usual emotional spits. Though just be careful on your timing!

He can be a bit clingy and physically touch starved, but with proper boundaries you might be able to tame this flamingo! Did you know flamingos follow their humans around? Yeah, this one does too-

Might not understand your love for cute things, but is a gift giver by nature, so he buys all the cute things he can find that screams you! It’s his own personal way of saying “I love you.”

#tsunderedoctor #op matchup #op matchups #matchups #matchup #carrot one piece #sogeking usopp #god usopp #usopp #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #one piece #one piece x reader

[thornescuriositycorner]

Reunion

*Author's Note*

This is a continuation of my short story, Last Sunrise.

Special thanks to Arr4err for ideas, suggestions, and inspiration :-)

WARNING: Vampire Violence

***

The force of Alessandra’s lunge sent Caleb flying into the wall with a thud, the back of his skull connecting with a crack. His hand flew up, grabbing her wrists as her teeth snapped like a wolf’s. In one fluid motion, Caleb shoved her against the wall, leaning into her, wrists held above her head. “Alessandra! Stop!” She growled and struggled to break free. “Alessandra!” Caleb’s tone was soothing, but on the inside, his heart shattered. It was a bittersweet agony, a guilty silent hope that Caleb was deeply ashamed of and hidden in the depths of his soul.

Alessandra was back.

The vampiress’ fury tamped out like a candle flame as a claw of fear sliced through her. Then the anger sparked and sputtered, quelled. Alessandra’s mind was a confused jumble. “Where am I?”

Caleb loosened his grip on her. “You’re in Sulani.” She has amnesia, Caleb realized. And she needs blood to regain her strength. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes.” Her face was a wary mask. “I remember you.”

The maelstrom of emotion battered him. He released her. “Get dressed and I’ll take you out to hunt. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Caleb made a beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in, sinking to the floor sobbing. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks, and a tiny sliver of guilt stabbed through him. You knew what could happen if you turned Jasmina. You knew, and you wanted it to happen... Caleb wiped their eyes and sniffled. “I knew it could happen,” he whispered to himself. “Now Alessandra and I can be together again.”

Alessandra ran a finger down the rack of clothing hanging in the closet, occasionally pulling out items of interest. She pulled out and immediately rejected a pink romper, her face twisted in disgust. “Too many colors,” Alessandra muttered. “Where are all the proper reds and blacks, dark purple, even?” Her critical eyes scoured the clothes until a black sundress slithered into her hands. She made a small sound of approval and dressed.

***

The night was warm and muggy, with a clear sky and a bright moon overhead. The scents of salt and tropical flowers perfumed the air, the calm ocean rolling onto the shoreline in small swells. Two bats touched the ground in the shadows near the bar and shifted into human shapes. “This is the local watering hole,” Caleb explained, nodding toward the building lit by tiki torches. “Stay here and I’ll-” But Alessandra, driven by reawakening thirst, disappeared inside. The melange of blood scents wafted in the air like a fine perfume, and it took every shred of control not to frenzy. She sensed Caleb’s presence a short distance behind her, and she turned to him with a coy smile.  Alessandra’s attention back to the array of chattering, laughing humans and sifted through the tasty odors. She zeroed in on one particular scent. The fine blue tracery of veins under the attractive woman’s skin throbbed with life. Alessandra made her way over to the lady’s table and delicately placed a hand on her shoulder. The woman glanced up with an annoyed look, but the irritation drained away to blank dullness. The vampiress guided the female outside into the thick shadows, smiling, pleased with herself.

Caleb was breathing hard, his eyes a drowning gray and his skin the color of alabaster. Watching her hunt had aroused his thirst, memories of them stalking their prey a whirlwind in his mind’s eye. “A lovely one, isn’t she?” Alessandra’s voice was a crystalline chime in the dark. “In perfect health and smells absolutely delicious…” As her amber eyes gleamed with thirst, Alessandra reared her head back and struck. Ohhh… Her senses and body quaked with pleasure as the coppery-sweet blood filled her mouth. The blood reminded her of the exquisite wine her master had once served before her embrace. She drank a few more small mouthfuls and pulled away, scarlet staining her lips and chin. “Have some,” she urged Caleb with a satisfied smile.

The thirst was too strong within him, and Caleb didn’t hesitate to grab the girl and sink his teeth into the red-stained skin. Blood shot into his mouth, assuaging his thirst and spreading warmth throughout his body. The fragrance of the girl’s fear engulfed him, the sound of her heartbeat and blood rushing in his ears. As Caleb sank to the ground with his helpless victim, he could hear her weak and pleading, “…stop… please stop…” Pinning her to the ground, he continued to drink. Sheer ecstasy welled deep within Caleb as the female struggled feebly and finally fell unconscious. Giddy from feeding, he stood up and dusted off his knees.

Caleb eyed at the girl a brief, detached look and took Alessandra by the hand. “Let’s go. Someone will find her.” Blending into the deep shadow, they made their way toward the deserted part of the beach. The light of the moon shimmered on the surface of the water and shifting shadows danced on the sand. Caleb turned to Alessandra, his eyes glistening, and brushed her lip. The vampiress’ lips parted, Caleb’s fingertip gently stroked one fang, and she gave a nip like a kitten’s. Alessandra’s arms slid around his neck, their faces inches apart.

“Do you regret what you did?”

A few heartbeats. “No.” But I do feel guilty, Caleb admitted to himself. I betrayed…no SCREWED OVER….a woman I cared for, and who cared for me… But to have Alessandra back, it was a small price to pay.

***

#original character #vampires #ts4 story #caleb vatore #ts4 vampires #short story #simlit #sims 4 story #original female character

[twstinginthewind]

Nonverbal asks! Mia getting Paul out of an uncomfortable situation. She seems like she'd be pretty smooth at that. Most of the time.

Nonverbal ways to say "I love you"; number 11 - getting them out of an uncomfortable situation.

Pomefiore students don't often get to indulge in sweets, so when Housewarden Vil Schoenheit uncharacteristically announced a dorm-wide "cheat day", nearly the entire population of the dormitory decided to take advantage of it. As a result, both Mr. S's Mystery Shop and the Mostro Lounge were awash in purple-vested students, all trying to satisfy some long-seated cravings.

One of the tables in Mostro held a gaggle of young ladies from Pomefiore, each passing around different dishes of desserts to share and laughing over the rims of their complicated coffee drinks. At one end of the table, Mia Sealponte perched at the edge of a chair, swinging her high heels beneath her seat. Her little dark brown cat ears swiveled curiously as her eyes scanned the crowd of students. She had one particular fishie within this school that she was keeping an eye out for, and she wasn't about to have wasted putting on her new VL lip gloss for nothing! Paulie usually worked on weekdays, so he was bound to be here, right?

Paulie usually didn't have his phone on during a shift, Mia thought, but she might as well take a chance and send a message to let him know she was among the purple swarm today.

Mia waited a few moments, staring at the screen, then put her phone back down onto the table. She leaned over to ooh at the chocolate mousse cake her sister had ordered, and giggle at a comment from her roommate. Then she heard the tell-tale chime of her text alert, and she jumped in her seat, scrambling to pick her phone up.

Well, nothing else to be done there. He'd message her in time. Might as well just have fun with the girls! A few minutes passed, and a sudden sharp sound shook the room. Mia's head flew up from her double caramel XL iced macchiato to see what it could be.

Floyd Leech had kicked in the door, and he had a couple of smaller Octavinelle students tucked under each arm and thrown over his shoulders. He strode in, and dumped them on the floor in front of an impatient-looking Azul Ashengrotto, who pinched the bridge of his nose, just beneath his glasses. "Floyd, when I asked you to round up some additional help for today, I didn't quite mean—"

"You wanted some little fishies, you got 'em," Floyd laughed, leaning himself over the bar to grab a slice of orange. "I collected aaaaaaaaaall the regulars from around campus, and brought them here to you."

"And did you ask if they wanted to work an extra shift?"

Floyd shrugged, nudging one of the prone students with the side of his shoe. "Oi. Barnacle. You wanna work?"

Mia's ears pricked up. Barnacle? Oh, no. She got to her feet to rush over, heels clicking against the tiles, and wedged herself between Floyd and his target, standing as tall as her little 5'1" frame would allow. "Paulie!! You didn't tell me you were gettin' a ride here!" she squeaked.

Paul looked up at her, somewhat dazed. "Huh?"

She reached out and took his hand, grinning nervously at the two Octavinelle upperclassmen looming above her as she helped him up. "Terribly sorry, fellas, but I'm afraid Mister Pilchard is otherwise occupied this afternoon. Y'know. 'Cause he was meetin' up with me."

"He was?" Azul raised an eyebrow.

"I was?" Paul blinked, shook his head, then grinned at Mia. "I mean, yeah, I was! Right after I finished studyin'!"

"Since he already had the day off, you see," Mia added.

"Barnacle had plans?" Floyd hooted. "I didn't know ya did stuff besides buggin me, hahaha!! Who knew he had a life?"

Mia's head snapped towards the lanky merman. Her ears lay flat against her head, and her pupils narrowed. "Excuse me. Is there a problem with that, sir?" she snarled, a single fang flashing in the light.

Floyd looked at Mia. She looked at him. He looked over at Paul, then back at Mia. And he started howling with laughter.

Azul waved a hand at the two freshmen, shooing them away, as Floyd dropped to the floor, cracking up. As Mia and Paul scurried off, he quietly addressed the other students that had been collected, and they filed into the kitchen to get to work. Azul stood with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot as Floyd eventually wheezed his way to what passed for normal for him.

"A sardine," Floyd panted, "in the claws of that cat?" He chuckled again, wiping one of his eyes. "She's gonna put Barnacle through a heck of a lot more than I ever could. Oh, man, that's funny."

"At least you're pleased. We could have used him on dishes, you know." Azul sighed, and turned back to his paperwork. "As long as you're amused..."

Floyd looked over to the table where Mia and Paul had retreated, and saw his little freshman helper shifting uncomfortably among the society ladies from Pomefiore. "Oh, I think I'll get to laugh about this for a while, Azul..."

#twisted wonderland oc #mia sealponte #friend's oc #paul pilchard #story #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #hoo boy only two months late #but it's happening! #thank you for bearing with me

[aces-to-apples]

For the WIP game: "strong"

Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, Fateless One/Bloody Bones

"As far I'm concerned, if this Ballad is already changed, then better to give it as happy an end as possible: the prisoners freed, you alive, and Sir Famor... pacified."

Bloody Bones crosses his arms. "'Pacifism' has never been my strong suit."

A deep red rosebud of a mouth curls at one edge, but he cannot tell if it's in amusement or contempt.

Rexakin, sith vampire!anakin

"That's captain to you, Vader," Rex spits out through the pain, vocoder making his words sound stronger than the wheeze that they are. "And it hasn't been nearly long enough."

Sevakin

Love is weird, Sev thinks as he falls headfirst into it.

He falls onto his back first, with some ugly motherfucker with too many spindly little limbs on top of him. The limbs are way too strong for how skinny the damn things are, and Sev's working his way up to throwing a fit about it when the thing is suddenly gone. Dazed, he lifts his head out of the dust to look for it and finds a Jedi surrounded by half a dozen of its friends instead.

DA:O/DA:I time-travel

Bright blue light springs to life between himself and his death.

Cailan stares.

The barrier flickers and dims as the ogre's hand is deflected but holds strong. It cracks, shudders, and winks out at the beast's third attempt, but a blade of crackling purple energy bats it away, slicing deep into its flesh.

Maulsoka

The large, hollow horns give her an immediate sense of presence, making her seem larger, filling the space effectively. Her lekku, plump and striped with pale cream and rich sapphire, now fall easily past her hips. She moves with deadly grace, secure in her health and skills, soft fat deposits clinging to strong musculature—bare biceps, thighs and calves, a large portion of her abdomen.

Lady Tano, it seems, has grown up.

It is—startling, befuddling, disturbing in a way—to him. Maul had not realized that she was not fully grown before.

Sweet jesus the avvar!cullen/dorian fic has five separate paragraphs with "strong":

Dorian smiled softly as she took a swig of her lethal-looking wine and exhaled sharply after she swallowed in the universal indication that the spirit was strong enough to shock a dwarf's senses. Cadash, he had found, was enamored with the Avvar—particularly the clan that had adopted her in response to her bleeding heart.

...

Not that Dorian minded pressing up against a strong, handsome man, per se, but he'd promised to be on his best behavior whilst attending the Avvar celebration. (Even though he hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Cadash, darling).

He eyed the barbarian, who seemed wholly unconcerned with their proximity, and weighed the pleasure of mildly-drunken flirtation against the consequences of disobeying his rather frightening best friend. With a sigh, and wistful glance at short golden curls, strong features, and a great deal of forest green and charcoal grey paint over delectable-looking musculature, Dorian bid the fellow a Cadash-cheerful, "Off to bed with me, I think," and headed for the quaint little hut that Cadash and her personal companions had been granted.

Despite his requisite complaints, he'd bedded down in far worse places and held very little genuine disdain for the four solid walls, strong roof, generous heapings of fur and fabric in vaguely bed-like shapes, and the dying embers of the central fire that kept the place from becoming uncomfortably cool.

...

The Avvar's hand moved to finger the deep yellow fabric wrapped around Dorian's torso. "This twill is from my own people," he said with a faintly pleased expression. "A strong weave. It serves you well?"

#wip guessing game #ask meme #answered asks #fic bits #by apples #general-sleepy

[serraic]

[ PIES ] While he hadn't seen what exactly caused the girl's distress, it wasn't hard to figure it out. Her dress had clearly gotten burnt, likely from attempting to jump one of the fires, and was now singed pretty badly on one side. She was upset, and while Lloyd might not have known Serra for very long, it was making his heart ache for another young girl. So, trying to channel some of Nino's pure heart, Lloyd sat down next to Serra, a slice of strawberry pie offered on a plate. "...Are you alright?"

“No, I’m not alright!” Blame Erk for her bad manners of simply accepting the food without so much of a thanks — or, rather, maybe don’t blame him, for he’d tried to instill better in her, but she’d always silenced him with something or another how it was a pittance to pay in return for all her good, gratuitous deeds. She dabbed at her eyes, clearly teary. She’d spent hours on hemming the glittering fabric, on fastening these large purple wings, on applying the shimmering make-up to her face, and now she felt the whole thing was ruined. She looked terrible — tears making lines in her make-up, dress shriveled where it was singed... even her wings curled inwards, pitifully. “I worked so hard, and for nothing! I look terrible... Who even jumps over fires, anyway?” You. “What a ridiculous tradition! Don’t they know — someone could get seriously hurt!” She stabs her strawberry pie. “I oppose the entire thing! As a healer, I say we ban this outrageous tradition before more people get irreparably injured!” Implying, of course, she was one of those who had been... “You’ll back me up, won’t you? Of course you will, you’re good-natured enough. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go see the headmaster and give a stern talking to! I’ll be able to act well the part of a lady traumatized by events. I’ve been acting my whole life, you see. I’m really rather delicate... I keep that all inside, though. I put on a brave face for others... Soldier on, as it were... But not tomorrow! Tomorrow, I’ll be wailing about the events of tonight! Can you cry on cue? Almost anyone can, you just need to focus your mind. Go on, give it a try.”

#fangedjustice #singed tears #v: blue lion #toamidsommar2022 #[ SOBBING CRYING SCREAMING ]

[mejomonster]

The yakuza games appeal to me for many reasons,

One being I love doing very charmingly bizarre slice of life stories where I go and explore on my own, along with fighting through a very angst ridden drama filled main plot

So like. I'm sick of the fighting gameplay? Go chat with an old lady with purple hair who shocks our protagonist. Go try to help Mr. Masochist by having his mom scold him. Go get a game back for a little boy only to realize the string of thefts ends at the boys dad stealing it to Give to him. Save a puppy. Find cats. Run into a streaker and start a fight. Get assigned Pokémon esque quests. Play some dragon cart against Mario crash bandicoot level ridiculous antagonists. Go find a washed up korean idol who keeps yelling at restaurants. Accidentally stumble into a sumo wrestler and a very mean little girl. It's just... it's nice the total sidetrack into little stories.

I think Devil Summoner Raidou is also one of my fave games, because like this it's half fighting in a quite Guardian esque main story to solve murders related to demons, but then the other half is Pokémon training demons and begging demons to give you rides and overhearing local teens spill the drama and helping demons dating lives. Just very slice of life ridiculous stories in the midst of the much bigger plot. I can go explore and listen to demon shenanigans and humans fumbling in messy lives when I'm tired of big story progression boss fights shdjjd

#lb #yakuza like a dragon #devil summoner raidou #anyway dsr is so fun. just so u know #incidentally its slightly similar action fighting style to yakuza

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Chapter 35 (Alt)

Glass Shards

Warnings: Lady whump, restrained, gagged, forced to watch, attempted rape, crude/explicit language, emeto (not overly descriptive but sure related to:), suffocation, broken ribs (implied), beating, blood, so much blood, a cut throat, impalement and burns, like, severe life ending burns to the face, which brings us to the next part, death death death (yes that’s 3 deaths)

This one is a slightly less explicit version of this chapter. The sexual assault has been mostly cut out, the violence stays :D

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“Leave her… alone.”

Damien’s voice was weak, trembling. The barely concealed terror in it made Merridy’s own fear all the more real. 

The bandit leader dropped her head and stood up. “Or what?” When he didn’t get a reply, he laughed, reaching for Merridy’s bound feet. “Don’t worry, you can watch.” 

He dragged her along, closer to the tree Damien was tied to. The rope around her wrists got caught on something, almost tearing her arms from their joints as she was dragged on. This time, she was sure it was blood she could feel running down her fingers.

The moment the man let go of her feet, she kicked him. Without enough room to move, she barely grazed his knee. He didn’t even waver. Instead, he kicked her in return, and her world shattered in pain. It felt like a lance of fire was tearing her apart. Her chest refused to expand, no matter how desperately her lungs were begging for air. Writhing on the ground, trying to escape the pain, she could only focus on getting small gasps of air past the gag. 

Shouting, muffled at the edge of her consciousness. She knew that voice. The shouts turned into screams, sending a shiver down her spine. 

Damien.

She forced her eyes to open, blinking until her vision cleared and she could see him. Blood dripped off his chin, and his eyes gleamed purple with murderous rage. But she knew him. She could see the terror lurking behind. She had seen it so often, every time he awoke screaming, every time he lashed out in fear. 

The rope around his neck had started to turn red, the skin beneath it rubbed raw and bleeding. It wouldn’t take long for bruises to form, just like the area around his left eye was already swelling. It wasn’t only his nightmares she was reminded of. 

Don’t hurt him.

Her jaw felt like it was breaking apart. She rubbed her cheek over the ground, hoping to dislodge the cloth, but it was bound too tightly.

“Gods, I can’t wait to cut your fucking throat,” the man said, kicking Damien in the stomach. “But first, you can watch me fuck your woman. I’m gonna show her what a real man is.”

He drew a dagger, and all color left Damien’s face. Merridy swallowed. The way he pressed himself against the tree broke her heart. For a moment, she remembered every single scar on his body. She was almost glad as the man turned away from Damien and crouched down in front of her. She was less glad about the gleeful grin on his lips as he grabbed her feet and cut the rope apart. He wasn’t careful about it, slicing the skin on her ankle as well.

The moment her legs were free, she kicked him again. She had aimed for his head, but only managed to hit his chest, earning her a disgruntled groan—and a fist to the face. It was the second hit that made her heart stutter, as her attempt to draw breath fell short on a bubbling feeling in her nose. When she tried harder, blood started to burn in her airways, running slowly down her throat.

Merridy threw her head from side to side, trying to shake off the blood, hoping, praying that he hadn’t broken her nose. The man hit her a few times more, but the pain faded against the panic that had taken over her mind. The world turned dark around the edges, wadded in cotton.

A voice. Begging. Pleading. Crying. 

Damien.

With her cheek pressed against the ground, she managed to suck in just enough air to stay conscious. A veil of blood and tears tinted her vision pink. It turned Damien’s tear-streaked face all blurry as she finally found him again.

She kept her gaze fixed on him as the man pulled down her pants. She knew she should fight, but she had no more strength left. Her body was shaking against her will, a bone deep chill creeping into her limbs. The man’s taunting words were lost on her, more so than on Damien. Somewhere, far away, she could still hear him cry in response. It made her cry as well.

Nothing happened. Seconds passed, every single one dragging on like an eternity, and still, nothing happened.

A strange, guttural noise finally made Merridy open her eyes, terrified of what new horrors she would find. The man knelt between her legs, a look of absolute horror on his face. He made another noise, this one sounding almost pitiful.

“What the fuck, Marek?” one of the other men called over from the fire. “We know your puny dick is a terrible sight, but you should be used to it by now.” 

The two men laughed. Then they started to scream.

“No no no no no no no!” Panicked movement near the campfire. Jumping, flailing. “Fuck! Ah, fuck.”

Merridy couldn’t help but look, finding one of the men doing a grotesque dance next to the fire, while the other was scrambling back from it on all fours. Her own terror was almost forgotten, the gag the only thing that stopped a hysterical laugh from leaving her lips. What was—

The realization hit her like lightning. She whipped her head around, to see Damien staring grimly at the scene, his eyes glowing purple, a look of utter concentration on his face. 

She should use the opportunity he gave her, but she couldn’t move. Her limbs had lost all strength, and she couldn’t form a clear thought. She was still shaking uncontrollably, and the more she tried to suppress it, the worse it got.

The man in front of her scrambled away from her. When he came too close to the fire, he yelped, looking around in a panic. He looked from his hand to his crotch and back to his hand, sobs shaking him as he felt for his face.

She knew it was an illusion Damien was weaving. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the man saw.

“It’s not real.” 

The voice from behind the fire grabbed her attention, making her turn her head.

“It’s a fucking— ah fuck, ow! It’s not real. Listen to me. Listen, for fucks… ow.” The only man who was left standing bent down to pick up a sword. Despite the pained expression on his face, his eyes were hard and cold. “Kill him, then it’ll stop.”

No!

Merridy jerked around, trying to move between Damien and the man. She had to stop him. Helpless as Damien was, he would just kill him. The terror of losing him was stronger than the pain, stronger than the need for air, at least for a moment.

She wasn’t fast enough. The man sidestepped her easily, lifting his upper lip in a sneer as she sank down, a sob getting lost in the gag. The need to breathe caught up with her, and she couldn’t fulfill it quickly enough. Her chest was fluttering, her vision fading. She turned her head, unable to stop crying. If these were going to be their last moments, she had to see him.

But Damien was gone.

Merridy was still staring at the empty ropes hanging off the tree when a wet gurgle sounded. Where a moment before the man had been mid-stride, he was now frozen on the spot, a look of disbelief on his face. The sword clattered to the ground as he reached for his throat, blood bubbling between his fingers.

Damien stood behind him, the bloody dagger in his hand matching the blood on his skin. He kicked the man in the back of his knees, so he would collapse faster, then bent down to pick up the sword. It was his own. He weighed it in his hand. The look on his face could only be described as murderous rage.

“You… fucking.” The man at the fire—the bandit leader—was scrambling to his feet. “I’ll gut you like a fucking pig.” 

Perhaps the dead one’s warning words had reached him, or Damien’s concentration was fading. It was obvious that the man wasn’t able to fully shake off the illusion, but it was enough for him to draw his dagger.

Damien took a step towards him, to face him. With the sword, his reach was longer, but he was obviously in pain and unsteady on his legs. The bandit leader easily dodged his attempted strikes, each new one clumsier than the last.

Merridy looked around, searching frantically for anything that might help her. Her gaze fell onto the dead bandit. The dagger Damien had used to cut his throat was lying in the puddle of blood that had spread under him. If she could reach it, she might be able to free herself. Determined, she started to shuffle towards it, only for her muscles to lock up as a fresh wave of pain tore through her chest. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Instead of using her shoulders, she tried to drag herself forwards with her legs. She had to move. To free herself. To help. 

A gloating cry made her whip her head around. Damien had taken too big of a swing. The man evaded his blow, moving to his right side, where he tore the dagger across his ribs. Damien sank to one knee. He held onto the sword for one more moment, then the man kicked him in the chest, and Damien crumpled. With a triumphant howl, the man ripped the sword out of his hand.

“Mhmhm!” Merridy tried to shout, but no word made it out. She could only watch in horror as Damien clutched his bleeding side, seemingly unaware of how the man raised the blade. Move, move, please, move. She sobbed into the gag, knowing that there was no way he’d be quick enough.

The sword came down, and Damien vanished.

Carried by the momentum, the man stumbled a step towards the fire before he managed to catch himself. Damien, suddenly kneeling behind him, rammed his shoulder into the man’s thighs. It was enough to make him lose balance, a terrified scream on his lips as he fell headfirst into the fire. 

He instantly tried to get up, away from the flames, but Damien followed, throwing himself onto the man’s legs. He shoved him back down, getting his knees under him so could use his hand to push down on the man’s back. Damien’s arm was trembling, his face so close to the fire, some of his hair started to crinkle in the heat. 

Agonized screams turned into choked wheezes as the man’s frantic movements slowly stilled. Damien held him down until he stopped struggling, and then a few seconds longer. When he eventually let go, sitting back on his heels and rolling the man out of the embers, the bandit was all but dead. His hair was gone. Where once his face had been, there was only melted, charred skin. His body still twitched in mindless panic, but even if his lungs weren’t already burned as well, no air made it past what was left of his mouth and nose.

Merridy had barely started to comprehend what she was seeing when the smell hit her. She turned her head away, staring up to the canopy, trying desperately to fight back the rising bile. If she threw up now, it was over. She would die, just when it looked like they had a chance to get out of this alive.

The moment she thought she had the nausea under control, she turned her head to watch Damien. Half of his shirt was already drenched in blood as he picked up the sword one last time. He walked over to the third man, who hadn’t joined the fight at all. Cowering on the ground, a tree at his back, he had wrapped his arms around himself, mumbling mindless fragments of words. Damien stopped in front of him and, without hesitation, rammed the sword into his stomach.

Merridy winced as the blade got stuck in the wood, staying upright, even as Damien let go of the handle. When the man tried to reach for the sword, Damien kicked his hand aside, then stomped on his fingers. Without giving him a chance to try again, Damien repeated the procedure with the man’s other hand.

With her heart hammering up to her throat, Merridy watched as the bandit convulsed around the blade, blood foaming at his mouth. She should feel something about it. Pity, perhaps, or at least disgust. She couldn’t.

Damien turned towards her, his face so terribly pale, his eyes dull. His steps were unsteady as he started to walk, as if he could crumple at any moment. The tattered shirt at his side fluttered, revealing crimson blood and pale white where a deep cut had split the skin.

After all that had happened, after all she had seen, it was this that drove her over the edge. Seeing Damien’s ribs made a new wave of nausea wash over her, one she was powerless against. Bile burned in her throat and in her airways, while the lack of air set her lungs on fire. Weakly, she shook her head, as if that motion could succeed in dislodging the fabric, when nothing else had. Vaguely, she was aware of a shadow falling over her, her vision already fading.

Help me. Help me help me help me.

Damien fell to his knees next to her and grabbed the piece of fabric holding the gag in place. In his haste to rip it off, his fingernails scratched her cheek and he tore out some of her hair that had been caught in the knot. With trembling fingers, he pulled out the gag as well, wasting no time with being careful. The moment her mouth was free, he grabbed her shoulder, to turn her to her side. Coughing and spitting, Merridy curled up, sobs alternating with desperate gasps for air.

For a moment, Damien kept his hand on her shoulder, holding her steady and keeping her from collapsing into the spit beneath her face. Only when she had calmed down a little did he let go. She watched as he picked up the dagger from the puddle of blood, then closed her eyes as he cut the ropes that bound her wrists.

It was over. It was over.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on his bloodstained shirt, and on the blood dripping off the hem. It wasn’t over yet.

Damien, she wanted to say. Her voice failed her. “Da… en,” she tried again, as brokenly as if she had screamed all this time, not merely tried to.

Merridy propped herself up on one arm, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and the trembling of her hand. She reached for his arm, and her touch finally made him look up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His face was basically white.

“You’re. Bleeding.” Moving hurt, but she managed to sit up, even if she was still so out of breath, she couldn’t go five seconds without another coughing fit. “Damien?” With her hand on his arm, she tried to catch his gaze. It went straight through her. 

“Damien.” Her voice became shrill as despair gripped her heart. “Damien!”

He didn’t react. Instead, he collapsed into her arms.

[ID: The top image is a banner covered in colorful glass shards. Across it is written the title of the story, glass shards, in a white to bright cyan gradient with a black outline. The font looks like written with a broad paintbrush. All other images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

#:)

[mamahuggiebear13]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Golden Girls Mug.