#or crush my skull with his shadows idk

[spookeart]

On my knees for shadow Reggie🧎‍♀️

From the fic ‘Only the brave’ by @solmussa on ao3! Who’s surprised at this point lmao this is my whole personality now, I don’t know how to be normal about it

‼️bloody version under the cut👇

#not regulus calling Voldemort ‘tom’ #like please how cool can he be #he could step on me and I’d thank him #or crush my skull with his shadows idk #regulus black #regulus black fanart #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanart #hp fanart #only the brave #artist on tumblr #digital art #my art

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way from Home 1/?

Ok, so here is chapter one of I don't know how many. I have 25 pages of this. My goal is to immerse the reader in this world and put them into the OC's shoes as she questions her sanity and breaks down. I don't know how it's going to end yet.

Same intro: 141's translator isn't able to escape after Graves's betrayal. He takes her, thinking she has information. Things go horribly. Stockholm Syndrome eventually sets in and our OC feels her 141 identity being ripped to shreds while a new one, possibly loyal to Shadow Company takes hold.

Idk how this is going to do because it's a darker fic. War Criminal Graves for sure. Really insecure about this one :/

READ: Trigger warnings (for the whole fic): Kidnapping, eventual dub-con, threatened rape, torture, mind fucking games, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

TAGS: Dub-con, violence, torture, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

-

Graves.

You looked up at him as your vision became clearer. Your head was pounding. You realized you were lying in the street. Did someone hit you over the head? You couldn’t recall. Graves started shooting and everyone ran for cover or tried shooting back. You shot back maybe once or twice. Truth was you were terrified of Graves’s Shadows and wanted to get the hell away from them.

You were able to camouflage into the woods and managed to make it to the streets on your way to the agreed upon rendezvous point, which was planned in case just an event happened.

The coldness, hardness, and wetness of that same street took your attention away from the sharp pains seemingly crushing your skull. Raindrops made your vision blurry every now and then as they landed in your eyes.

But that didn’t stop you from glaring at Graves. If looks could kill the man would’ve dropped dead on the spot. After all the missions, all the teamwork, and especially all the nights spent with him…you felt disgusted.

But you still felt small, vulnerable, like prey, even with all your gear on. You were flat on your back surrounded by Shadows (demons)…and Graves. You were beginning to worry. Sure, you’d received the training required to tag along with the 141 but definitely not quite all of it. How the hell were you going to put up with being tortured for information or being held captive if it came to that?

“141’s translator.” Graves smirked. “Good to see ya again, Valdez. Been better though, yeah?”

You said nothing. The firefight had stopped although you didn’t know how much time had passed between the end of the fight and now. You only hoped Soap, Ghost, and Alejandro were okay. You didn’t know what all had happened. All you remembered is that gunshots rang out and everyone ran.

You apparently didn’t run fast enough.

“Where are your friends?” Graves commanded, looking down on you with his hands clutching his vest.

Arrogant bastard.

“141?”

“Duh.”

“I dunno,” you answered simply. “You kinda fucked everything up when you started shooting.”

He laughed. He sounded cruel.

“Where are they?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Don’t act. You had to have a rendezvous point.”

You remained silent.

Graves paused before saying, “Actually you know what? Let’s get outta this rain.”

Rough and careless hands grabbed your arms and pulled you into a sitting position, soaking the rest of your clothes.

“Watch it,” you snapped. “Cabron. No me vuelvas a tocar,” you added in your native tongue, demanding he not touch you again.

You heard Graves scoff from the inside of a dilapidated building. He then said, “Cuff ‘er and bring ‘er to me.”

You felt those same rough hands placed thick plastic zip ties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind your back and he pull them tight, almost painfully so. You were then pulled to stand in the same coarse manner before being led into a building that looked like it was barely standing. It had been gutted inside and out. The same Shadow shoved you and you fell onto your knees and shin hard in front of Graves. You felt your knees scrape and bleed.

“Forgot how good you look on your knees,” he smirked. He reached towards you and you almost bit him. He ripped your radio off, also taking your earpiece with it and cutting your ear. He gave it to one of his men, telling them to get rid of it.

You ignored what Graves had said because how could he fucking forget when you’d just seen him last night? You instead decided to temporarily focus your anger on the Shadow that had roughed you up earlier. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you snapped at the faceless man. “Tu mama no te enseño que los hombres no les pegan a las mujeres?” You then shot back, asking him if his mother never taught him that men don’t hit women.

“Now you need to knock that Spanish shit off,” Graves mentioned. “You’re in the presence of Americans so speak English.”

You said nothing, only scowled at him even though he was currently towering over you.

He laughed. “Still got that mouth on you I see. Good for telling others off, translating, and…other things, too, huh?”

You felt your cheeks blush but out of anger. Your ears felt hot despite the cool rainy night. Apparently Graves liked to kiss and tell. The fact that the last time you’d slept with him was right before this mission left you feeling absolutely disgusted. You felt like he’d raped you in a way as he didn’t tell you who he really was.

“Where’s 141?” He asked again, standing before you and again reaching up to grasp his vest. You saw that lines or scratches and scars lined his forearms.

“I told you I don’t know.” You paused before adding, “Si te lo digo en español lo entenderás mejor? No se.” You asked if you telling him in Spanish might help him understand better.

“You really need to start cooperating here,” He walked about you in a circle and you felt like he was a wolf circling injured prey.

“I don’t know, man!” You snapped. “We all had to run for cover when you and your goons started shooting.” You paused before adding, “Heard they knocked a few of your Shadows off.”

One of the Shadows from behind you kicked you and your vest roughly, almost making you fall sideways. You gave a scowl in that general direction before focusing back on Graves. “You’ve been planning this shit for awhile haven’t you?”

“Look at you, so perceptive,” Graves cooed. It was creepy. “All I did was told them I was in charge and they didn’t like it.”

“So you betrayed them?”

“No, no,” he stopped dead in front of you again and knelt so you were both at eye level. His eyes were cold, icy, like the arctic. You smelled blood and gunpowder and you wondered if it was his blood or some of your teammates’. You silently prayed they were okay. His eyes had never looked like that before. “They betrayed me.”

You laughed callously. “Bullshit,” You tried to stop yourself from saying the next thing but it was said before you even knew it. “You’re a traitor, Graves. And a fucking war criminal.”

With that he smacked you across the face. Hard. You cried out, tasting blood. You shook your hair from your face and turned back in his direction.

“So you hit women, too now?” You gasped, spitting blood in between his boots as he kneeled in front of you. “At the very least you have treason and usurpation.”

“It doesn’t need to be this way. I need to know where they are.”

“Why, to kill them?”

“Nah, I wanna keep ‘em,” he added threateningly. “Some brainwashing and they’d make a good team for me.”

“Go to hell, fuckin’ traitor.”

He reached out, grasping your hair so tightly you yelped. He tilted your head up to make sure you made eye contact with him.

“If you use that word again I will kill your friends when I find them. Not before I kill you in front of them first, though.” He didn’t break eye contact, almost expecting a reply from you. “Are we really gonna have to do this the hard way?”

You didn’t speak.

“Fine,” he responded. He stood up, his height allowing him to tower over you again. He drew his sidearm and pulled the hammer back, placing a bullet in the chamber.

So this is how you were going to die. On bloodied knees in front of what you now considered an enemy combatant. He placed the gun to your head and you felt the cold barrel through your thin, wet hair.

“Call them,” Graves demanded.

“No,”

You weren’t expecting it when he hit you with his sidearm across the side of your face. You screamed in pain, falling flat on the floor. You vision was blurry and the sounds around you were going in and out. You saw him step closer is you flinched, mumbling, “Don’t!” When you thought he was about to kick you. Graves grabbed your vest and hauled you back to your knees.

“Call them,” Graves commanded again, his voice louder in volume and deeper in tone.

“I can’t,” you gasped, your head throbbing. You shut your eyes, wanting to be anywhere else but here. You opened them and you were still there, effectively being tortured.

Graves stepped out in front of you. It was dead silent, the only sounds being the crickets and the rain. You met his eyes trying to muster any sympathy. You were likely concussed at least two times over and you were in pain. His eyes didn’t soften and his men didn’t even flinch. Were they seriously okay with this?!

He raised the gun at your chest.

And he fired.

The force of the bullet forced you onto your back and you felt ribs possibly break underneath your vest. You yelled in pain as you found yourself glancing up at the ceiling of the gutted building you were in. Your vest had stopped the bullet from penetrating but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Get ‘er back up and take her vest off,” you heard Graves tell one of his men.

Your body protested as you were again hauled up on your knees. The Velcro of your vest easily gave way to the strong arms ripping it open. It was tossed aside. You wanted to ask them to at least have some respect for the American flag on your vest but your energy was sapped. It was focused on staying quiet and surviving.

He was kneeling in front of you again and you wondered if he was going to shoot you point blank because he wanted to look in your eyes as you died. Pulling at your zip ties was useless.

Graves reached into his vest and pulled a large, black knife.

“You’re torturing a captive!”

“There’s the military and me,” Graves stated simply. “I’m not as bound by the rules.” He then leaned forward and sliced through your uniform shirt. Underneath all you had on was a pink tank top. He signaled to one of his men who then knelt directly behind you and pulled you up off your shins and onto solely your knees. He grasped your chin from behind and pulled up, forcing your line of sight up and away from Graves. Graves was completely out of view and you had no fucking idea what he was going to do.

“What’re you doing?!” you voice broke as you began panicking.

“I’m about to scar that pretty body if you don’t talk or call your friends.”

“I don’t know! I don’t!” you yelled out desperately. “You know I can’t do that to them,” you sniffled.

The first cut was deep but not deep enough to cause vital injuries. It went from your collarbone to just over your heart. At this point you just sputtered and cried.

“Either tell me where they are or call them.”

“I can’t!”

“No, you’re choosing not to.”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” Your breath came out in hurried, panicked gasps.

“Sounds like a rehearsed response to me,” The second cut Graves inflicted mirrored your first except it was on the opposite side of your chest. You couldn’t help it. You screamed.

“Graves what the fuck!” Your words echoed Soap’s from not too long ago. You believed you heard him sheathe his knife, presumably without cleaning it, almost as if he wanted your blood to adorn his vest.

“Let her go,”

The Shadow behind you released his grasp and you immediately fell onto your knees and shins, Doubling over in pain. Your once-pink tank top was covered in blood and the cuts on your chest would need stitches at the minimum.

“Hmm, they must not care about ya anymore,” Graves taunted. “Maybe you should come work for me.”

“Never, fuck you,”

“There’s that attitude again,” he laughed callously. “But you have to admit that would be a neat trick.” His voice was sickly sweet as he added, “Imagine that. You at my beck and call before I sicced you on 141.”

“Never,” you repeated.

“We could really, really use you,” Graves stood back up. “You speak Spanish, have experience with surveillance, countersurveillance, know the culture…”

“You wish,” you sighed.

“Well if this isn’t working and asking nicely isn’t working, we can try something else.”

You were past trying to hold back tears. Luckily your dark hair hid your face. You started at the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. With what he had said earlier you were scared another look at him would brainwash you. We circled you again and you couldn’t help but flinch when he got close.

“You and I had a pretty good working relationship, didn’t we?”

You didn’t answer.

“Answer me, soldier,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you snapped. “Not anymore.”

“You’re right not anymore. Maybe soon though.” He paused, scoffing before adding, “Didn’t we also agree to have certain friends with benefits activities?”

“Fuck you,” you half sobbed.

“Yeah you actually did,” there was that cold laugh again. He continued walking around you in a circle as you watched blood drip onto your dark pants.

This was humiliating.

“Man you worked wonders with that little mouth of yours,”

“Argh!” the yell came from your lips loudly. You were frustrated, concussed, in pain, had been betrayed, and now you were finding out that man you were starting to have feelings for was betraying not only but everyone. “You’re so fucking disgusting!” You shouted, raising your gaze to glare at him.

“How ‘bout a repeat?”

Your glare lost its edge for one of surprise and fear. Was he talking about…

“I’ll go first and they,” he signaled around to his men, adding, “Then they’ll go next. And if you keep pretending not to know we can make things…invasive. How’s that sound?”

“Jesus Christ, Graves,” you whispered, “you’re talking about torturing and raping a captive.” Your voice sounded weak, fearful.

“It’s up to you,” Graves shrugged. “You can stop this anytime you want. Or if you really wanna get laid without admitting it you can keep not talking.”

You whimpered.

“I mean, think about it,” Graves knelt in front of you again, keeping that sadistic blue gaze locked onto your darker one. “It’d happen right here when anyone can see what a fuckin’ slut you are. No one would help, either. They’d just watch it happen.”

You cried because what the hell else could you do? You weren’t used to this. You translated for fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be captured. Not in your worst nightmares. That was something for the movies, for fiction books.

“Keep up the charade and you’re going to suffer. I promise.” He glared at you with those blue-grey emotionless eyes. “I mean hell when I get sick of ya they’ll pass you around however the fuck they want to. I’m sure they’d love to have a shot at a 141 bitch.”

“Fuck yeah,” a Shadow said from behind you. “She’s a cute little thing. Love to see her cry some more.”

You were floored. How was this happening?

“Graves—” you started.

“Commander Graves to you from now on.”

“Commander Graves. I don’t know. Even if I did, they’ve moved on. They’re mobile,” you tried to reason. “I’m of no use to you.”

You saw his jaw muscle clench. “No, you’re gonna be useful, trust me.”

Your hopes that he would just untie you and send you back to 141 bloodied, beaten, and tortured to send a message fell to zero.

“Pick her up and bring her with us,”

“Fuck no, man,” you shook your head. You knew that you under no circumstances could you allow them to take you to a second location. It dropped your chances of survival to almost zero.

You were pulled to your feet roughly and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea. You were definitely concussed.

“Take her vest. Leave her name tag.” Graves wanted to send a message: she’s alive…come get her before I rip her to shreds.

The Shadow who pulled you up whispered hot and heavy in your ear through his mask. He had to lower himself to your level he was so tall. “Cry some more for me.”

He was so close to you, so close to your face you tried to bite him. “Try me, asshole.”

Graves, further again, laughed. A few other Shadows chuckled. Not because it was funny but because they were probably thinking: awe, how cute…she thinks she can take us.

You pulled and struggled and screamed and cursed. They easily kept control of you. They were too tall and too strong. They tossed you in the backseat of a black Tahoe and your cursed inwardly when you failed to get the plate.

Graves got in on the other side of the backseat. He easily reached over you, grabbing your seatbelt.

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking touch me!” you yelled.

The doors slammed shut and two more of his team got up front.

The van took off and you heard your seatbelt click into place.

You glanced in his direction. Your glare was gone. You were about to resort to pleading when you thought of one more idea. The windows were so dark you couldn’t see anything but you had to try.

You quickly leaned sideways towards Graves. The quick movement threw him off and he didn’t react immediately. It put you in a position to where you could kick the window. One, two, three kicks before Graves grabbed your hair, pulling you upright.

“You need to stop,” he warned darkly. “You almost broke my window.”

The cracked glass might be of some use and so you screamed. Screamed for help. You didn’t mention names but you just screamed for anyone to help.

“If she doesn’t shut up we’re gonna get pulled over,” someone said from the front. “There’s a few non-corrupt cops out here ya know.”

You felt a gloved hand tangle itself further in your hair and the other gloved hand place itself over your mouth.

“Hand me that,” you heard Graves say.

You tried biting but the gloves were too thick.

Graves untangled his hand from your hair and produced a roll of duct tape. “You need to stop biting,” he said darkly. You decided you would keep biting and scratching and kicking.

Using no gentleness at all, he wrapped the thick, suffocating tape over your mouth and around your head, effectively silencing you completely.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And with that you gave up. You were going to die. You only hoped the US would at least get your body. Things quieted down. Graves worked on a laptop while the other two Shadows up front chatted about nothing in particular. It seemed like hours passed and your head injury wasn’t letting you keep track of the twists and turns.

Exhaustion and your concussion got the best of you and you surrendered to the darkness.

#phillip graves #alejandro cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #mw2 141 #shadow company #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #konig mw2

[albentelisa]

Favorite headcannos about Jim and Claire

Jlaire, my beloved.

Some of my headcanons:

Claire is clearly more proactive when it comes to showing affection physically and putting it in words. Jim is more reserved - not because he loves her less, but because he has a different love language;

initially, Jim idolized Claire - and it's the main reason why he couldn't talk to her. Once he learned she was also just a normal girl with her own flaws and insecurities, the problem disappeared. And I like to think that it was what transformed a crush into true love;

Claire actually dislikes guys trying to pick her up with some dumb lines - she has experienced too many of those. That's why Jim's confession in Unbecoming failed;

Claire went with Steve to the concert not because she found Steve nice, or enjoyed his company, or something, but because it was her fave group. She'd go there with anyone - even with a literal goblin;

Jim giving everything to save Enrique meant a lot to Claire. It impressed her even more than if he went to the same extent to save her;

probably, an unpopular opinion, but I believe that if Claire hadn't tried to find the truth herself, Jim would have never told her about the supernatural. I feel there were high chances for them to end dating anyway, but with Jim keeping trolls secret just to protect Claire's peaceful world. Claire would learn it in any case eventually;

I like to headcanon that Jim came to like some things Claire enjoys, like theatre and Papa Skull;

on the other hand, Claire learned cooking from Jim - I feel that initially, she couldn't cook (not to the level of Barbara of course);

the point I absolutely adore is that both Jim and Claire entered each other souls and managed to free each other from a mind-controlled state. I feel that they had touched each other's souls, creating an unbreakable bond. By unbreakable, I mean unbreakable - it survived the time travel (and I'll die on this hill);

Barbara obviously likes Claire, but I feel that both Ophelia and Javier came to like Jim eventually too, despite their initial not-that-good impression;

I also strongly believe that Claire's worries for Jim played a huge role in the development of her shadow magic during Wizards. Like come on, her lover was seemingly dying - and she couldn't do a thing. If despair isn't a negative emotion, IDK what counts;

I also feel that Claire would stay with Jim, no matter what form he took. Yes, it includes even if he stayed full troll. Though, I bet Jim would most likely attempt to convince her to give up on him. It wouldn't work;

despite liking Romeo and Juliet, Claire is someone who'd rather fight and survive for her love, even though she's willing to sacrifice herself if there's no other way;

a bonus dumb headcanon is that Jim was constantly questioning if he was worth Claire's love. In his head, Claire's type looked suspiciously like Douxie, so he genuinely freaked out after seeing Douxie in close vicinity. It was an absolutely delusional view as Claire would gladly befriend someone like Douxie, but that wasn't her type. 

#tales of arcadia #my headcanons #jlaire #jim lake jr #claire nunez #text post #ask box #theslayerbrother

[evelzzzk]

Dragons eat Seahorses series: Outburst of chaos - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Aemond Targaryen (Chapter 2)

Chapter 1: Battlefield between the sheets

Guys, sorry for late-posting this, I've wanted to do it earlier, but Tumblr messed up visibility of my posts in tags for a few days so... yeah. But here it is, hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS(!): Smut, 18+ NSFW, slight angst, hate-sex, name-calling, heavy knife kink, mentions of breeding kink.

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 6,4k

DISCLAIMER: Mentions of ep 9 HOTD events

SUMMARY: King Viserys I, The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, has died. A war was brewing, the division of House of the Dragons was inevitable now and you have found yourself in the middle of this mayhem. You were imprisoned in your chambers, as well as your mothers, while The Greens were plotting to seat the unrighteous heir on the throne. An unexpected savior comes to your rescue but later he demands quaint favor from you. To make matters worse, the doom of inescapable punishment for your recent vices was hunting you like a shadow.

Playlist: Track 1, track 2, track 3 (idk why I thought latino vibe might fit, but here it is :p)

The sound of restless bustling outside doors has woke you up violently. You opened your eyes unwillingly and with a languorous yawn you turned yourself to the other side of bed, only to find empty space and messed up blankets. Aemond was gone. You huffed as you noticed a small note on the bedside table. You took it doubtfully, as your eyes followed written words. It was his writing, you were sure, those diligent lines were hard to adulterate.

„My Father, The King is dead. My mother has sent me to find Aegon as she plans to make this unworthy drunkard his successor. Please stay in your chambers, for your own good. I’ll be back before sunset. Yours, A.T.”

The King is dead. Those words has sunk into your veins, freezing the blood running through them. A moment of cold realization has hit you as the piece of paper fell to the floor. The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the last warranty of peace and possible chance to appease any conflict, has succumb to illness. The dissent of the House of the Dragon was now inevitable, the coronation of Aegon will surely start a war. A war that will leave nothing in this realm, besides bones and ashes.

You tried to gain back your composure and decided to quickly change your clothes by yourself, as you have not seen any maid to help, much to your surprise. The outside clamor kept going, you even heard some muffled cries and screams of female voices, you guessed that those belonged to missing maids and that was the reason of their absence.

You put your dragon-riding gear on, wearing a gown somehow seemed to be out of place in the face of current events. You braided your hair quickly and you wrapped it around the top of your head. You rushed to the door and you were unpleasantly surprised as you couldn’t open it. You tried to pull the handle several times but like out of spite, it remained unmoved.

You growled with disappointment and slammed the door with your bare fist a few times.

- Hellooo?! – you screamed fiercely, hoping that someone will answer your desperate call.

- Lady Elaena...? – you heard familiar voice and sound of footsteps coming. The voice you wanted to hear least.

- Ser Crispy Cole... You locked me up in here like if I was some kind of a mongrel? – you hissed so threateningly, that you could feel the man behind the door trembling. 

- Apologies, my Lady. It was the Queen’s order – said ser Criston with a remorse in his voice, trying to cool you down. As if he even could.

- Listen to me, you pathetic queen asswipe. You better open this door or I will crush your pitiful skull on it! – the words oozed from your mouth like a venom. Deep down inside, you knew that insulting a kings guard wasn’t the most reasonable thing to do. But you hated this doleful makeshift of a man too much to even care. You hated his toadyism towards the Queen. You hated that he hated Rhaenyra, acting like a pathetic, bitter ex. It made you despise him even more.

- It’s for your safety, my Lady. Believe me – he said patiently and you heard him walking away.

You punched the door angrily and subsided upon it. You lasted in your misery for a little while.

- My Lady...? Are you alright...? – all of sudden you heard your sworn shield’s voice. You breathed a sigh of relief.

- Ser Ryon... Thank Gods. Yes, I’m fine. Tell me, what the hell is going on? Why all this fuss?

- The Queen has ordered service to be locked up in dungeons. She called The Green Councill and she doesn’t want any bystanders.

- The King has barely given up his ghost and that bitch is already plotting – you replied with disbelief.

- So you know, my Lady...? – the knight seemed to be surprised.

- Yes, I do. My mother, where is she?

- She is imprisoned in her chambers as well as you, My Lady. Queen’s order. I’m sorry, there wasn’t much I could do – he added with sincere apology.

- I swear the Gods, I will beat the shit out of this worm Cole at the nearest opportunity – you muttered under your breath. You knew you had to reach to your mother and help her escape The Keep.

You looked around the whole room in search for some kind of denouement. Your eyes stopped at the window and curtains tied with a long rope. An idea has sprouted in your head.

- Ser Ryon, I need you to do me a favor. Stay here and make sure no one will pass through that door – you said as you approached the window and started pulling off curtains.

- My Lady...? – knight seemed confused.

- Trust me, ser Ryon, as I trust you with my whole life. I will be perfectly fine – you added assuringly and started to make line out of curtains and rope, tying knots tightly.

Apparently ser Ryon has obliged to your order as he remained silent from now on.

You tied up the line you’ve made around the wall pipe and tossed it through the window. You looked down as you examined the height. Your chamber was located on the second floor, so it was rather safe to just slide down the line.

Before you left, you made sure to have at least one dagger by your side. You also grabbed your valyrian steel sword, Dragon’s bane – another gift from your father and stepped on the windowsill. You jerked the line couple times to make sure it was well secured. You turned around, facing the window, and started to slid down the wall slowly. But you weren’t aware of the extra pair of eyes watching you for the whole time.

When you were low enough to jump off, you released the rope and expected to hit the ground. But it wasn’t the ground who caught you. You found yourself in strong arms of a man instead.

- Aemond?! – you gasped as you faced your hooded ‘savior’, your eyes were open wide as if you just saw a ghost. He seemed to be as surprised as you.

- What the hell are you doing here?! – you snapped, he was still holding you tightly.

- I should ask the same question – his lips curved in a mischievous smirk.

- Youuu… - you hissed as you turned your head to the side to see ser Criston Cole standing next to Aemond, wearing a weird, mix of a monk and squire, costume.         You broke free from the Prince embrace only to hit with all of you strength the unsuspecting face of a knight. He staggered slightly to the side as your fist landed on his cheek with a loud crunch. If it weren't for Aemond, you would have crushed his skull with your bare hands without any inhibition. Young Prince caught your arms and pulled them to your back, pushing you aside of ser Criston, as you tried to break out angrily.

- How dare you locking me up in my own chambers like some unbridled animal, you haggard imitation of a guard?! – you shouted madly as you still tried to break free from Aemond’s grip.

- You were right, my Prince. She is reinless, indeed – ser Criston still rubbed his cheek, now reddened because of your fist strike.

- Let it go, my Dragoness. Enough of this – Aemond was seemingly tired of your incessant resistance. Finally you gave up with an angry snort and turned around to look straight into the only eye of your betrothed.

- Have I not written for you to stay in your chambers for your own sake? – he asked with a poker-face, but his eye was filled with concern.

- For my own sake?! Are you mad? The King, your Father, is dead! And you expect me to sit there politely and do nothing?! – you looked at him in disbelief. He knew you perfectly well, he couldn’t require you to be idle as you were always the first to act.

- And what did you want to do, my love? – he grabbed you by your arms and looked at you, fondly almost.

- I need to see my mother and get her out of King’s Landing – the determination in your voice must have somehow impressed him, because now he was genuinely interested in your next doings.

- And how will you do that? The city is swarming with guards, every entrance to The Red Keep is guarded as well. How are you going to sneak through?

- Well, I thought that maybe… you would help me with that, you know many secret passages to the castle… - you proposed and hoped that he will be willing to help you. You were even ready to pay him back, in a way he would be very pleased of.

- You’re right. I do know many of them – he replied with a victorious grin.

- My Prince, I don’t think this is a good idea… - ser Criston interfered and got immediately struck with your killer gaze.

- One more word from you and he’s not going to be the only One-Eyed here – you snarled towards the knight and pointed your finger at Aemond. You heard a resentful ‘Ouch!’ from the Prince and you looked at him apologetically.

- She’s right, Cole. It is not safe for such Lady to wander these streets alone. We shall escort her to the one of the passages and then we’re going straight to find the drunkard brother of mine -  Aemond ordered sturdily and ser Criston only rolled his eyes.

- Oh, you are looking for Aegon? I suggest you should start looking at the Silk Street – you pointed out with a bit of mockery in your voice. Both Aemond and Cole looked at you with resignation.

- Gods, my brother isn’t even trying to hide his depravities… - The Prince huffed with contempt – Here, you should wear this – he put hood on your head – We’re alike now – he grinned proudly.

He took your hand firmly and all three of you sanked into the city streets.

Aemond’s knowledge of the city, its every corner, every alley and every crossing has quite impressed you. He moved with the agility of a panther as he guided you through next aisles. Luckily, all of you managed to stay out of sight of suspicious guards of the City Watch as they were occupying each street corner. After some time of wandering, hiding behind your cloaks and hoods, you finally have reached your destination. Aemond approached the breach in the stone wall at the foot of The Keep and moved one of loose bricks to the side. After a moment a hidden door has opened and a dark, secret tunnel appeared to your eyes. Prince took one of torches from the entrance and illuminated the surrounding darkness, apparently to make sure whether it was still safe to pass through. A short and complacent ‘Hmm’ escaped his lips, clearly it meant his approval.

- This passage will guide you to the floor where your mother’s chamber is. All you need to do is go straight forward and turn right at the last bifurcation. Stairs at the end will lead you to the destination – he instructed you carefully, handling you the torch. You nodded understandingly.

- You are always this helpful or just fair-weather? – you smiled at him provokingly.

- Only when it comes to save the lady in distress – he replied cheekily, a spark lit his only remained eye – Go now, little dove. And be careful, there are still guards inside the castle, better not incite them – he kissed you gently on the forehead and looked verifyingly into your eyes afterwards, to make sure you understood his remark.

- Don’t worry about me, my Prince. You better go, find your spoiled brother, before he drinks himself to death in one of those shabby taverns – you couldn’t resist yourself to tease him, even if only a little.

He nodded at you for farewell and turned around, only to disappear with Criston Cole in the turmoil of the city.

You sighed with waiver and stepped behind the threshold of the tunnel, only the flame of the torch lit your path. You followed the stone corridor and after some time you reached the crossing – you turned right remembering the instruction given you by Aemond. You passed the stairs going upwards and the huge, brass door emerged in front of you. You barely managed to open them, pushing the metal handle all the way forward, using all the strength you had. Finally the door has opened with a loud creak, revealing quite well-lit corridor, for a nice change. Before you stepped in you looked cautiously around both ways – there was only one guard protecting the entrance of your mother’s chamber. I have to get rid of him somehow, you thought trying to figure out the right distraction. You decided to go rogue and trust your own gumption.

You emerged from behind the corner and the guard immediately spotted you, his face was clearly shocked to see you there.

- Lady Elaena…?! What are you doing in here? You should be in your chambers…! – he stepped forward warningly, stopping you with his hand.

- Well, I needed to use the restroom and I’ve obviously lost my way… - you tried to pretend a sweet idiot and you were doing pretty well, but the guard felt the urge to raise the alarm anyway.

- Stay right where you are. I’ll order ser Ryon to escort you back to your chamber – he wanted to grab you by your arm, but you were faster. You turned yourself behind his back swiftly and grasped his head, your forearm were locked around his neck tightly.

- You will go nowhere – you hissed and twisted his neck, maybe a little bit too much, because you heard a bone crack and a moment later the guard fell to the floor, lifeless.

- Well, shit – you muttered, watching his face getting more and more white. But you didn’t have much time to contemplate over your maleficence as you pushed forward the door to the chamber.

- Elaena…? – your mother looked at you shocked, a sight of lying guard’s body over the threshold must have added to the effect, because her mouth gaped in a stupor.

- Mother, I had to see you. Are you alright? They didn't do anything to you, did they? – you grabbed her by forearms, looking attentively for any sign of mistreatment.

- If they had only dared, they would have regretted it bitterly. And you didn’t have to kill the guard to get in here, daughter – you rolled your eyes at her punitive words.

- The Queen was here, wasn’t she? To ask for your support for Aegon’s ascending? – you asked knowingly.

- Yes, she came here. But I didn’t gave her my answer, yet.

- Mother… - you were shocked by the lack of decisiveness of your own mother, the very same woman who have always been sure of her will.

- She knows my answer well. They all do – Rhaenys grabbed your chin to give you assuring look. You sighed with relief. The Queen Who Never Was, but should have always been.

- Mother, you need to get out of here, you can’t stay in King’s Landing. I’ll command ser Erryk to escort you out of The Keep at the dawn, he will guide you to the ship in the Blackwater Bay. You’ll sail away to the Dragonstone, to warn Rhaenyra and Daemon – you revealed the plan you’ve managed to come up with while wandering through dark corridors. And you knew ser Erryk was one of the very few who can be trusted right now.

- And what about Meleys? I can’t leave her here - your mother's voice was suddenly filled with sadness. She was as attached to her she-dragon, The Red Queen, as you were to yours.

- The coronation will take place in the Dragonpit, Aemond told me. I will get Meleys and Carantes out of here, I promise. I’ll join you on the Dragonstone – it was now you who was ensuring your mother as you squeezed her hands firmly.

- And you think Aemond will let you go without any opposition? Now, when you have just returned to him and your affection seems to flourish? – she looked at you with incredulity.

- He will have to. He must – you whispered, a sudden pain filled your soul, the thought of abandoning the love of your life again was truly tearing you apart. But it was that kind of pain you had to swallow, even if it hurt with every single sip.

- You love him, my child – Rhaenys embraced you with her maternal warmth, understanding the importance of the choice you had to make.

- My feelings don’t count right now. There are far more important things to face at the moment – you said with a dash of a soldier, succumbing yourself to the loving hug of your mother.

- You really are my daughter – Rhaenys smiled with an unhidden pride, letting you go – You should go now, guards will soon start looking for the reason of their dead companion – she rushed you towards the door.

- Remember mother, ser Erryk will get you at sunrise – you said as you slowly disappeared behind the door. Your mother only nodded with understanding.

Somehow you managed to sneak back to your chamber unnoticed. Ser Ryon seemed to be visibly relieved when he saw you, all safe and sound.

You decided to take a bath as you wished even for a single moment of rest. You filled the tub with boiling hot water, adding some fragrance oils. You kicked off your clothes and dived into the steaming water. It was still a bit too cold for your taste, in the end a fire cannot kill the dragon, you guessed. You were lying there for several hours until water became unpleasantly cold. You peeked through the window. The sun was low on the horizon and there was still no sign of Aemond’s presence. You assumed that the searching of his brother must have devoured him completely.

You stepped out of bathtub, reaching for the towel and started to wipe the wetness from your body. You even applied some of precious lotion from Ashai as you couldn’t resist it’s tempting scent of jasmine. You put on the dress, black one with deep boat neck, long sleeves and with rich, velvety dragon & seahorse embroidery. You clipped some strands of your hair to the back, leaving the rest loose. You wanted to look representative in case Your Prince would’ve decided to join you.

Suddenly the door to your chamber opened and none other than Aemond came in, casting you an exploratory look. He evidently appreciated the fact that you have attired yourself for him only, as he smirked in a delightful way.

- There you are. It seems that you have already tuned yourself up for the evening – his eyes were piercing through you obstinately and you could tell that he was already undressing you in his mind.

- Have you found Aegon? – you asked as he poured the wine into two goblets.

- I have, unfortunately. If only he had boarded a ship and crossed The Narrow Sea, you would’ve become the queen – he handled you one glass and smiled apparently pleased with himself, his gaze never left your body, as he was now examining your statuesque figure wrapped with black velvet only to highlight your every curve.

- And have you found your mother? – he took a solid sip of wine, still staring at you, making you blush involuntarily.

- Yes, I have. I’ve arranged her departure from the city – you also took a swig, wanting to cover your reddening.

- Good. She’s welcome to leave at any moment, as long as she leaves you behind – he finally glanced away from you, reaching his hand to back pocket of his coat.

- I have a gift for you - a black velvet box appeared before your eyes.

- Gift? - you were so startled that you had to put your glass down, not wanting to spill the alcohol.

- Open it – he passed over the box to you, smirking cunningly.

You opened it and the first thing you noticed was the blood-red fabric that filled the inside. Then your eyes caught a sight of quite impressive necklace made of white gold, a massive tear-shaped sapphire was embedded in its heart. You said nothing, as you were dazed by the artistry of gold chains linked with carved bindings.

- Helaena helped me with picking – Aemond finally said, wanting to break the awkward silence.

Ah yes. Helaena, his sweet, older sister. Only she could have such sophisticated taste. And she was the only person of this whole family who you truly sympathized with.

Aemond took the necklace out of the box and looked at you inquiringly. You turned your back to him, shoveling your hair away. After a moment you felt a cold touch of metal against your cleavage and Aemond’s gentle fingers grazing the soft skin on your neck, causing you to shiver. He clipped the jewelry and his hands slid down your arms, his warm breath enveloped your nape. You turned yourself back around and now he was admiring little piece of art on your neckline.

- It definitely looks better on you. Now we both have something in common – he smiled at you meaningly.

Suddenly something dazzled you. His eyepatch. For some time you have been tempted to discover what is underneath it. And now it was within arm's reach.

You slowly gripped the leather strap with your hand. He didn’t stop you but you could see how much he have stiffened, his only eye glanced down to the ground. Finally you removed the eyepatch, revealing the deepened scar first. Then you looked further. The sapphire. The rumors did not lie. It was now gleaming, reflecting the candlelight and you could literally saw little flames dancing in its flexure. It was truly beautiful, out of this world. The blue of the stone only highlighted the color of the healthy iris, making it more overwhelming.

- Are you scared? – he was afraid of your lack of reaction – I wear the eyepatch so ladies at the court wouldn’t be frightened…

- It’s beautiful, Aemond – you sighed as you grabbed his cheek, gently tracing the pink scar with your thumb. You could see him gradually relaxing. A surge of relief overwhelmed him, a realization of your acceptance washed over him like a wave. Acceptance of his flaws, his deficiencies, his weaknesses.

All of sudden he pulled you by necklace gustily and crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was so hectic that you couldn’t help but moan, while he was engorging you with his tongue. He pinned you with his whole body to the dresser behind you, you almost stumbled from the force of his pressure. His hand embraced your thin waist, while the other wandered to your breast, kneaded it through the thickness of material. Apparently this wasn’t enough for him as he pulled out your both of your bosoms, releasing them from tight pressure of fabric. His lips immediately sucked their tender mold, grasping sensitive nipples with his teeth, coaxing more and more delightful groans from you.

- Open your legs – you heard his fiery command by your ear as he gently licked it.

You remained still as you looked at him with pride. You were a Velaryon after all and a dragon’s farrow, you weren’t going to give yourself up to him like a common prostitute.

- Resistant, huh? Have you already forgotten that you deserve to be punished for your recent antics? Besides you also owe me a favor for today's rescue – his fingers tightened around your jaw, clutching it heavily – Spread your legs like a good whore you are – his voice was nothing but a threat now.

- I am not… your… whore – you managed to drawl out through your teeth and you took out the dagger hidden in the neck of the dress but you were foolish to think you could menace him somehow. In a split second Aemond knocked the blade out of your hand, spinning it deftly within his palms. He pressed the dagger against your throat, enough for you to feel its sharpness, without cutting your alabaster skin.

- What did you want to do with it, little dove? Cut me? – he chuckled madly, sparkles of insanity glistened in his one eye – Now, where were we… Ah, yes – he spreaded by force your trembling legs with his free hand, the blade of your dagger never left your neck.

- Good girl – he praised and set aside the dagger from you and started to play with it. His eyes were examining your dress as he was swiveling the goad around his hand, more and more vehemently.

A few clean, rapid cuts tore your dress apart, baring you completely in front of him. Aemond smiled with unhidden satisfaction and after a short while he grabbed your ass, lifting you and placing on the top of the dresser. Again, he separated your legs so you were forced to put heels of your feet on the edge of furniture.

- And who do you think you are if not a whore, spreading yourself before me like that, waiting for me to graciously fuck the life out of you? – he smirked derisively, teasing you. The sapphire in his eyehole shimmered sinisterly.

You felt ashamed, humiliated. You were now completely at his mercy, like a helpless child waiting for a punishment. Your cheeks became scarlet red, the blood in your veins pumped restlessly.

- But I must admit that your tendency to hiding weapons everywhere you manage can be… useful – the cold blade of dagger traced inner side of your thigh as he watched your skin shiver from the sensation - So why not hide it here? – he encircled your groins with blade’s tip, dangerously close to your folds, now becoming wet. You didn't want to admit it, but sporting with Aemond turned you on more than you could ever imagine.

- And what is that? My, my… You’re already soaking. Does it excite you, the feeling of a threat against that defenseless body of yours? – he chuckled with a slight surprise. He rotated the dagger so now its handle was aimed at your core. You gasped with dismay as you realized what he is about to do.

- Well then… There is nothing else left for me to do than to obey the salacious craving of my dirty, little whore.

And before you could even protest, the shaft of dagger slipped through your drenched folds. You cried pitifully at the feeling of cold and hardness ravaging your poor cunt. Aemond pushed it slowly further, rotating the haft slightly so it was now hitting that special spot inside of you. He was now watching the blade disappearing inside your pussy and he was clearly hypnotized by the sight. Your moans were capturing his mind in a delightful way, he was ready to yield right there, right now.

- It’s almost as long as my cock. Makes me wonder… whether you have pleasured yourself with it during lonely nights without me? Have you imagined my cock slamming into your needy cunt while doing it? – he purred against your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on it - Of course you have, just look at you… How you squeal like a common slut at the sensation… You’ve been through this before, haven’t you? – he pushed the dagger even harder, making you squirm.

His hand set a killing pace, his teeth nipped the sensitive skin on the crook of your neck. Your screams continued as the dagger’s handle pushed into you eagerly, hitting that very spot inside of you, leaving sloppy, wet sounds.

- Look at me – Aemond grabbed your jaw, looking fiery into your eyes and once again he kissed you so intensely that you thought he’s going to crash his teeth against yours – Look what you’re doing to me, how dare you take advantage of me like that…? - he panted, finally tearing his lips away from yours.

You looked at the growing bulge in his pants, he was extremely aroused indeed. While you were admiring his covered manhood, he used your moment of inattention and sticked the helve all the way through, finally turning it over in such way that made you swoon almost. The thrusts did not stop and you felt your climax coming as your walls started to shake around the dagger. Aemond must have noticed that because he stopped his moves all at once, removing the handhold, now completely soaked with your juices, causing you to whimper. 

- U-uh, I won’t let you come, not like that. It would be an insult to me – he looked into your miserable eyes and licked your liquids of the dagger so obscenely that it made you blush like a little, innocent girlie.

- But I must admit you taste divine, my little dove - he did not stop embarrassing you, as he licked his lips lasciviously. He put the dagger at a safe distance so that you certainly could not reach for it. He ran his finger along your bottom lip, kissing it softly.

- Go to bed. Lay on all fours – he commanded shortly and this time you knew better and obeyed.

You walked towards the bed and went on all fours exactly like he ordered, sticking your ass defiantly in his direction and you waited in anticipation for his next move. You heard the tumble of metal buckle of his belt when it hit the floor as he was undressing himself. For a brief moment you thought he was going to use it to smack your ass, but it wasn’t the belt that strike your bum. His hand gave a few solid slaps, so whopping that you were certain there would be red marks the next morning. A heated screech left your mouth while he gave you several more, kneading the luscious flesh of your ass with his fingers. Another streamlet of your wetness dripped down your thighs.

- Now I’m going to fuck the obedience into you until you plead me to stop – he snarled and with a one firm thrust he buried his whole cock in your greedy cunt, you screamed as you were feeling him tearing your insides apart. He growled as he felt you clenching around him so tightly that he couldn’t move even an inch.

- Stop squeezing me this hard, issa ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness). You don’t want me to come, not yet – he whispered to your ear, giving you a warning slap in the ass. You tried your best to loosen your walls up, but it was pretty hard, since he haven’t gave you any time to accommodate to his length.

Once you have finally let go, he started pounding into you mercilessly, stretching you in a hurtful and yet pleasurable way. His hands tightened around your hips, using all his strength to stick you onto his swollen manhood. He was piercing you like a newly sharpened spear, rutting into you like a thirsty animal. Your sinful moans mixed with shameless, wet sounds of tapping skin against skin. Aemond was breathing heavily, his deep growls made you stretched for him even more.

He pulled you up by your hair abruptly, so your back was resting on his firm chest now and your ass leaned on his muscular thighs. He grabbed one of your breasts clasping it lustily, while his other hand wandered to your exposed clit, torturing the sensitive bud so badly it made you squeal like a little, hurt bird.

- Look at you, taking my cock so willingly like a good, submissive whore – he oozed praises into your ear, licking the earlobe deliciously. His hands guided your hips to his pelvis making your movements more unhesitating. At this moment you were almost sure that if there was a huge mirror in front of the bed he would definitely made you look into it, to watch how greedily he takes you. But at the same time, he would have to reckon with the fact that you would have come in a second.

- I’m going to claim you endlessly, mark you in every possible way so no man would ever touch you or even think about you indecently – as to highlight his words he started biting your neck, leaving bruises and hickeys wherever he could. Gods, now I will have to wear those goddamn high-neck dresses, you thought with an annoyance, but he didn’t gave you much time to complain in your thoughts as he began to literally hammer you into his pulsing cock.

- I will defile you to that extent that no other lord would ever want to marry you because… you… are… MINE - his last words practically turned into a fearsome snarl. He threw you on your back with quite momentum, with a one dexterous move he lifted your pelvis against his loins and buried himself deep inside to the hilt. It startled you so much that you had to grab the nearest pillow and stick your nails into it. His thrusts gained  more and more strength so as your screams became almost desperate. He watched you – no, he was engorging you like a predator just before consuming its prey. The sapphire in his eye socket gleamed wildly making him look even more intimidating.  His insatiable eye looked at you, trembling, begging with all your body for release. Oh how you were praying for it, your mind was completely clouded with vision of incoming bliss. But Aemond was not a fool, he sensed your approaching intoxication like a deer would scent the changing wind. His moves became cruelly sluggish, he was torturing you with his languor.

- Aem… Aemond…! I need… I need to come…! Ple… Please! – you whimpered realizing how pathetic you must have sounded.

He only grinned impudently, lowering himself so now his torso was rubbing against your tremulous breasts.

- Beg me, byka live (little whore). I want to hear you begging for it – he whispered to your ear, leaving wet, sloppy kisses around your neck afterwards. His long, silver-blonde hair, now in a complete mess, were stroking you so lightly that it almost made you ticklish.

- Please Aemond! I beg you… Please let me cum, please! – so you begged, wanting your own ecstasy more than the dignity you lost when he stripped your dress of you.

- Excellent. I shall fulfill your wish as I am a gracious prince – he smiled triumphantly and kept his word as he began pushing into you at a deadly pace.

You could tell that he himself was getting closer to his peak, you could feel every single vein on his throbbing cock, pulsating with boiling-hot blood, his breath got much more erratic. He closed his eyes and laid his head beneath your collarbone, almost drifting away. His hips thrusted chaotically, trying to hit your sensitive spot for the very last time.

- I’m going to fill you up with my seed. I want to watch your belly swell with my child, your breasts full of milk… - he suddenly expressed his unexpected wish, causing to google at him with your startled eyes.

This confession must have somehow turned him on even more, because as his thrusts became more uneven his groans escalated as well. Your walls started to clench around his member ruthlessly, your whole body was shaking as if you had caught the cold. And you came. Basically you both came in an unison almost. He spilled his entire seed deep inside you, pressing his hips into you more to make sure not a single drop was wasted. You sighed deeply, your mind was overwhelmed by the number of various impulsions. The two of you were in silence for a longer moment, only the sound of your restless panting was interrupting the tranquillity. Aemond was still inside you as his cock was becoming floppy. He peppered your cheeks, jaw and neck with kisses and gently stroked your temple with his fingers. Finally he pulled out of you, causing your mixed liquids to drip down the inner side of your thigh. He went down on you and hugged his face to your womb, looking at it meaningly. You automatically ran your fingers through his silky hair, tattering it slightly.

- Aemond…?

- Hmm…? 

- Would you really father a bastard…? – you were a bit concerned about his reaction to that question, but you had to ask it anyway. He looked at you as if you have just broke off the Christmas tree.

- We'd be already married when the baby would be out. I would never contaminate myself with a bastard, I’m not like my brother – he visibly felt disgusted at the mention of his sibling.

You looked at him confused. You weren't going to allow him to bring your child into this world. The world that was about to be destroyed by the yoke of war. You weren’t so selfish as to condemn an innocent being to such a fate, but Aemond didn’t seem to care about it at all. Apparently, the burden of being the second son and want to leave behind a legacy was greater than you thought. After all, you weren't going to give in to it, as you already planned to ask the Maester for the moon tea. You can never be too careful.

Aemond raised from the bed and brought the bowl with water as well as some cloth. He started to clean you up, gently wiping the sweat and your liquids off your body. When he finished he did the same with himself. After all, he put the vessel aside and pulled you under the covers, wrapping you closely with blankets. You leaned your weary head on his chest, his heartbeat was so steady and calm that you almost fell asleep just listening to it.

- Sleep, my love. Tomorrow my cursed imitation of a brother will be coronated. And after that we will begin the preparations for our wedding – he kissed the top of your head, rubbing it softly.

But Prince Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen did not suspect yet that before you tie the knot many unexpected events will take place. Many thrilling ones perhaps. And maybe it will take the world’s end to say this perpetual oath.

... and here it is guys! Thanks for reading and I will appreciate any kind of feedback in comments! I have almost finished Chapter 3 by now, I'll post it any time soon and I hope this time Tumblr won't screw things up :p And worry not, Daemon & Aemond duo will come back in some time, but for now story will be more Aemond-concentrated as I have to figure out the wedding crap between him and reader and other thingy things. I also have the concept for the whole series and I'm afraid that every part will contain some kind of smut. But I know you dirty little potatoes love it :p

And... I have a plan to write a quite short, but intense smut with Aemond&Aegon&reader threesome. I'm not a big fan of Aegon at all but he's such a little, filthy shit so I thought this might be fun :p

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know in comments.

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#aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #ewan mitchell #almond targaryen #prince aemond #hotd smut #smut #pornwithtext #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer

[bnha-archive]

Idk if you do smut, if not then make this h e a v y fluff. Shouji x Reader where Shouji wants to take his relationship with the reader a step further but doesn't want to scare her? Thanks!

oh ho ho~ :3 All characters are 18+, Don’t like, don’t read. 

Enjoy

G

-

It’s the lingering touches that make you notice. Mezo’s fingertips grazing your lower back, neck, and cheeks in passing have been putting you on… edge. That is to say, he barely has to touch you to make your mind start racing and heart pounding painfully. The amount of power he has over you is startling. 

 At first, you think all this is innocent. You’re just the one with the perverted mind,Mezo could never. He’s so collected and calm.

But as the touches continued, you noticed the gazes along with them. He may wear a mask but that doesn’t mean you can’t read his expression. You catch his eye as he places a hand on the back of your neck, rubbing smooth and gently circles there. “You look tense.” He would say, then move away like he didn’t just make you choke on air.

Those looks he gives you is unmistakable… You can see the way his eyes tilt up in the corner and the glitter in them as he takes in your flustered state. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The absolute bastard.

You finally manage to corner him after patrol, the two of you heading back to your respective apartments. Thank god you’re his neighbor or else this would never work.

Shoji unlocks his front door and turns to wish you goodnight, only to find you staring him down. “What is it?” He turns the doorknob—and you pounce. You push him inside, slamming the door shut with your foot. The apartment is blanketed in darkness—the only light coming from the crack beneath the door.

Now, you’re not an especially tall person. Hell, Shoji is hitting 6’4”, a good 2 inches taller than he was in high school—but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to kabe-don him. Your hand slams itself next to his hip while the other finds the side of his neck. You press into him, your gaze never leaving his face.

“Do you know what you do to me, Mezo?

“I…”

“You drive me crazy. Distracting me at work is the worst of all. How can I focus on my job if your hands are all I can think about?” You take his hands and place them on your hips. His hands skim the fabric of your jeans, tentative to touch you.

“I drive you crazy?” Mezo hands finally find purchase on your hips, and he pulls you even closer. You can feel his breath through the mask, hot. “Just being in the same room as you… I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to ask someone what happened at a meeting. This?” He gestures to you and then to himself, “I’ve never felt this… You… you’re the first. But if you don’t want that—it’s ok. I can live with just sex.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You’d never expected this. Are you sexually attracted him? Yes. Are you romantically attracted him? Also, yes, but you’ve never spent much time considering this part of your relationship. But Shoji’s feelings are more than the ‘tear your clothes off’ kind. More like, ‘let me carefully take your clothes off, so I can make love to you then cuddle with you’ kind.

And well, you’re not going to spurn that. Not in a million years. You intertwine your fingers with his and gently tug to get him to bend down to your level. You lean up, chin tilting as you press your lips against his mask just to the right of where his lips should be. His left hand disentangles itself from yours, and he pulls the mask down to kiss you properly. In the darkness, you can barely make out his profile. His mouth is wide and his lips are soft as he kisses you. 

He kisses like you are the only thing keeping him alive, stealing the oxygen from your lungs. His arms cage you in holding you prisoner not that you would want to escape. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with all the force you can muster. You want to tell him how long you’ve been thinking about him.

But all those thoughts flee when he presses the bulge in his pants against your thigh.

And from the feel of him, it’s on the larger side. The thought of it causes your head to fall back, parting your lips to allow a groan of want to escape. Shoji allows a sigh to escape him, his hot breath fanning across your neck before feeling something warm and wet trailing its way over your shoulder.

“Me-Mezo I—ah!”

He bites down, gently but with enough force for your words to trip over themselves. The noises coming from your throat only fuel him. You feel two more hands find your ass and squeeze as the other two hold you in place—practically crushed against his chest. The second pair of hands travel down to your upper thighs and with laughable ease, you’re lifted. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing the crux of your thighs against his straining erection.

Oh Jesus, does that friction feel good. You rub against him, the sensation against your clothed clit sending small ripples of pleasure straight to your core. “Mezo—are, are you planning on fucking me in the—ah, hallway?” Trying to find words in your befuddled lusty state did not come easily.

You feel him grin against your skin. “I was thinking about it… But I wouldn’t be able to go all out.” A decision made, he pushes off the wall and carries you (still around his waist) to his bedroom where he promptly places you down on the futon before starting to strip. He flicks on a light in the corner, throwing shadows on the wall as your own clothes quickly join his on the floor.

Despite your hormone-addled state, you couldn’t help but be A little intimidated by the sheer image of him. Standing there 6’4”, naked and with an almost painful erection, which you want nothing more than to alleviate. You are lying if the sight of him in this state didn’t turn you on but damn if it didn’t make you feel small in comparison.

And then you couldn’t think about the size difference anymore because he was on top of you in another moment. You’re splayed on your back as he cages you in his arms once again leaning his head down to kiss you once more. You could feel his hardness pressing into your inner thigh and you push your hips upward to tell him silently what you want.

He ignores it and sweeps his tongue along your own, causing you to part your lips further. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you whine at the sensation—not only is his mouth bigger than yours, so is his tongue. It practically takes up the rest of the space and you close your mouth around it. Hot, wet and oh so tantalizing. Sucking on his tongue roughly and another lovely noise escapes his throat at the sensation.

He pulls back to look at you, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet, and a bit of drool running down his chin. “Is it alright if… if I use my quirk? On you?”

The yes came out of your mouth so fast you didn’t register the sound of the words. All you see if his lips splitting into a shiny, and remarkably pointy smile.

You feel something hot and wet poking at your slick folds—but how? He’s kissing you right now—OH. “Ohhh.” A large wet tongue licks carefully around your labia. Spreading your slick and thoroughly dampening your vulva. But he actively avoids giving you any type of stimulation. “Mezo! Don’t ah ah tease me!”

“But it’s so much fun…”

You feel the second tongue slide inside you. You buck your hips at the sensation, but Shoji’s strong arms hold you down as he tongue fucks you. You can’t keep quiet; your right-hand comes up to cover your mouth but Shoji swats it away. “Try to quiet yourself again and I’ll pin your arms above your head.”

You’re tempted. But the delicious feeling between your legs keeps you from forming any type of coherent thought. The exaggerated slurping and licking fill your ears and it only serves to make you squirm harder. Your thighs squeeze around the mouth as the tongue finds itself rubbing against your G-spot.

You can feel your muscles tense, legs locking as your hands fist the sheets beneath. Your mouth goes slack as your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Something wrong? You look like you’re close? Well, are you?” Mezo leans down to speak into your ear, the tongue suddenly working double-time.

“I-I need! Please. Please. Please!” You’re mumbling his name and pleading with him. You can feel the knot in your stomach pulling tighter every second.

God you’re so close.

The tongue swells in size, becoming stiff with thick ridges stretching you and you gasp at the sensation as what is now his cock fills you. It’s too good. Too perfect.

“Cum for me…”

And you do—screwing up your eyes as your body convulse and shake as your orgasm shoots through your veins. Just like that, it’s over and your body relaxes… or tries to. The rock-hard cock inside you twitches. A shift of your hips pulls a whine from your throat as the sensitive walls flutter around Shoji’s length. He chokes back his own moan at the sensation.

Your eyes meet and Mezo leans down and kisses you again, softly. He smooths your hair back and peppers kisses across your flushed skin. His real tongue licks the shell of your ear. “I hope you have another round in you because I’m just getting started, darling.”

#bnha #mha #mezo shoji #shoji mezo #bnha shoji #lemon #bnha smut #shoji x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Anon #Headcanon #imagine #bnha fluff #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagines #bnha fanfiction #mha fanf #:3 #mha shoji #spicy #tongue tied

[firemblem-fics]

Hello, If you are still taking requests, could you write any of the prompts for Yuri please, anything is fine lol. Thank you! I love your blog uwu

betrayal. | yuri

50 Wordless Ways to Say I Love You: Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath

-> Pairing: Yuri x Female!Reader

-> Warnings: Cursing, Violence, MAJOR CINDERED SHADOWS SPOILERS

-> Genre: One-Shot (1.3k), Some Fluff, Mostly Angst

-> A/N: This is like as canon-compliant as I could make it with the addition of the reader idk, I’m sorry it’s not quite “original” as much as it’s me rewriting the scene

“Finally, you’re all awake. Good morning, sleepyheads. Or is it a good evening?”

Yuri’s voice pierced through your skull, making your head throb. You heard the other Wolves talking to him- they sounded angry- but you were too weak to even open your eyes. 

“You- you scoundrel!” Constance yelled, “You are unfit to speak with us, liar that you are!”

Yuri waved her off, seemingly uncaring about whatever the hell he was doing. You tried to keep quiet, fighting off a groan of actual pain, as you opened your eyes and peered up. Yuri was standing tall above the four of you, his sword in his hand. You, Constance, Balthus, and Hapi were tied up, lying on the ground in a chamber. What the fuck?

“What exactly are you trying to do here?” Balthus pressed.

“Aelfric intends to reenact the Rite of Rising.” Yuri sighs, then explains. “By offering up the blood of the four Apostles, you can bring someone to life. Saint Seiros attempted the ritual 995 years ago, but not enough blood was given, so the ritual was a bust. And now, through extreme persistence, Aelfric has found and gathered the four of us, with our Crests.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Y/N? She doesn’t even have a crest.” Hapi asked. 

You were more awake now, gently sitting up as memories came to you. That’s right- Yuri had betrayed everyone. The Wolves, the professor, you… Your eyes burned with tears. The little bird certainly was only a rat. Yuri looked at you, a bit too long to mean nothing, and walked to the side, twirling his sword. 

“She’s simply too strong. To have her go free is to risk too much. Aelfric can’t let this ritual fail. He spent his years raising us in the Ashen Wolf house all to ensure that the Rite of Rising was successful.” 

“You mean to say that he intends to drain our blood? To kill us?!” Constance’s voice raised. 

“Yeah, no, count me out.” Hapi joined in, “Wait- the number four includes you too, right? You’re gonna die too?”

“Yep. That’s the idea.”

You’d had enough of this talk. Yuri- Yuri wasn’t like this. You refused to believe it. He had been nothing but sweet to you, was it all really just a lie? Struggling to find your voice, you finally cried out. 

“I can’t believe you!” Everyone’s head snapped towards you. “You- you filthy liar! You’re risking your life and everyone else’s for what? Some dead bitch? You’ve spent your whole life with these people to stab them in the back?”

“Y/N-” Yuri opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“No, no! Fuck you, Yuri Leclarc. Or are you lying about your name too? I can’t believe I trusted you- or any of us. You took advantage of everyone’s kindness and now you’re throwing everyone’s life away.” You spat at him. If you weren’t avoiding his gaze now, you would’ve seen hurt flash in his eyes. 

That hurt hardened quickly as he saw Aelfric watching from the corner. “Shut it. I've lived through Hell and worse. After clawing my way here, you really think I wanna die?”

“Then why throw your life away for the likes of Aelfric?” Asked Balthus. 

“Some things are more important than my own life.” Yuri’s eyes shifted back to you for a moment, “Some things are worth protecting.”

“You’re not making any damned sense-”

“It would seem that you want to be punished severely, Yuri.”

Suddenly, Aelfric revealed himself, walking to Yuri with a threatening aura. Yuri only scoffed, defiantly speaking back to him. You couldn’t understand much, now, your vision was spotty with your migraine. You felt like throwing up, but that didn’t seem quite appropriate right now. 

“-If I must, I will kill your mother alongside your dear people.” Aelfric finished his little speech as you focused on soothing your nausea. You kept blacking in and out between the conversation, missing bits of it. To focus on staying awake, you tried to grab the dagger that was strapped to your waist in order to cut yourself free. 

“The whole ‘evil villain’ outlook doesn’t look good on someone as pious as you, Aelfric.” Yuri laughed. You paused, wondering why he would insult his boss. 

“Yuri-bird, I could-”

“Not yet,” He hissed at Hapi. You continued to fidget, getting your ropes to the blade and beginning to saw through them. 

You were about halfway through when three figures, coated in masks and dark outfits came forth and took hold of the three downed Wolves. A fourth walked in front of you, raising his hand to knock you out once more. You flinched back, awaiting for the impact, but it never came. Opening your eyes, you saw Yuri holding the man’s wrist. 

“You will not touch her.” He threatened, “Or else.” 

The figure left and you could only sit back and watch as Aelfric sliced the four Wolves, spewing some goddess-awful monologue to Yuri. Bells chimed and Aelfric began to look panicked, much like you were. You said you hated Yuri, but that was far from the truth.

In the past time that you had gotten to know him, his sly, cunning antics had begun to grow on you. A lot. Before you knew it, you had found yourself becoming quite fond of the house leader, wanting to fight alongside him and spend your time conspiring with him. With as big of a crush that you had on the boy, it was only normal that you would feel so betrayed by him. Hell, you weren’t even going to die (yet, probably), and yet you were still just as upset as the other wolves. 

“Oh, and just so you know, I’ve been working for Lady Rhea since before I ever began working for you.”

Your utter surprise at Yuri’s words made you snap the last bit of rope that you had to cut. So, he was on your side the whole time?

“It matters no longer. The ritual is almost done. Just a little bit longer…” Aelfric tried to reason- with Yuri or himself, you couldn’t tell. 

Yuri scoffed and you began to stand up, drawing your weapon. “Don’t think for a moment-”

“That I’ll let anything happen to them!” You yelled, suddenly charging towards the man. Your fist collided with Aelfric’s jaw, knocking him to the ground as the other Wolves stood up. 

“Seriously, Boss, did you have to tie us up so tight?” Balthus complained, rubbing his wrist. 

“Sorry, Balthus,” Yuri laughed, “I figured those little tears would be enough for you to break through the rope.”

“I hate to interrupt the relief party,” You walked up to the group and shoved the blade of your weapon against Yuri’s throat. “But I’m still quite angry, and I’d like to take it out on some people I actually can beat up.” 

Yuri gave you a watery smile and gently pushed down the blade, tilting his head at you. “I’m sorry.”

You scrutinized Yuri for a moment before dropping your weapon and rushing towards him, knocking him back a few steps as your arms wrapped around him. You heard him grunt a little and you smile, squeezing him even tighter. Yuri eventually relaxes and wraps his arms around you as well, resting his head on top of yours. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Do you still hate me? I think you do, because you’re squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe. Not complaining, though.”

You looked up at him, ignoring the professor and the other knights as they filed into the chamber, ready to fight. “No, I could never. Even if you really had betrayed us…” You looked away from his gaze, but he tilted your chin back up. 

“I couldn’t betray you all. That would mean never getting a bone-crushing hug from you again and now that it’s started, I don’t want it to stop.” 

You laughed and tip-toed up, pressing a light kiss against his cheek. “Whatever, you sap. Let’s go kick some ass.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses x reader #x reader #fire emblem three houses imagines #requests #yuri #yuri leclerc imagine #yuri leclarc imagines #yuri leclarc x reader #yuri leclarc #yuri leclerc x reader #asks #lay writes #ask prompts #writing prompts

[bthump]

If you could rewrite Berserk (or maybe parts of it), what would you change? I love the way you interpret this story. The way you interpret this work, makes it so much more powerful, than how some other side of the fandom understand it.

thank you so much, i’m glad my interpretations resonate with you!

tbh my ideal version of Berserk is basically a much shorter story that begins with the Black Swordsman arc and ends on this shot:

more specifically I’d open on a similar panel of Guts fighting ghosts, seen far above, and alone. I’d include a version of the Lost Children arc in the Black Swordsman arc after chapter 2, between Snake Baron and Count Slug, also introducing Skull Knight. I’d make some kind of pointed visual comparison between Skull Knight and Vargas, illustrating that they’re both similarly consumed by revenge and cautionary tales for Guts.

This version of Lost Children is even sadder and more depressing - Jill and Rosine’s friendship is highlighted as positive, the scene where they fly together is beautiful and uplifting, and it’s suggested that if Jill did stay with Rosine her influence could remake the creepy Land of the Elves into less of a horror show and more of an actual place of refuge sans monster transformations. Yk, Rosine is open to Jill’s suggestions basically.

Guts still has his humanizing moments with Jill but he’s shown at his most monstrous too when he kills Rosine. Jill returning to her abusive home isn’t uplifting or hopeful, it’s tragic. Guts’ “this is your paradise” bit isn’t an objective statement, it’s a sign of Guts’ depressed cynicism and increasingly monstrous mindset. Oh and despite the Land of Elves being fucked up (in my version it would at least be sliiiiightly less fucked up), Guts destroying it would have some thematic echoes in the destruction of the Hawks. Maybe the raid we see on the Hawks after they’re declared traitors involves a lot more fire and forest burning down. Maybe some of the elf monster kids try to save each other and one of them gets Guts with a thrown knife lol a la Judeau protecting Casca. Idk, something.

Also the Peekaf story is cut, as is Rosine’s tragic flight home, as emotional as it was in the manga. She dies with Jill here. I’m kinda downplaying the dreams as escapes theme wrt Jill’s flight with Rosine and the land of the elves because I don’t think it works in this arc due to, yk, the alternative being abusive homes.

Afterwards ghosts still taunt Guts about becoming like Femto, but without the “your friend” description bc that gives too much away. Skull Knight picks up Rosine’s behelit and has his suggestive “hm this could be Guts eventually” internal monologue even though Guts doesn’t have a behelit yet.

Count Slug arc is essentially the same. I would turn the fetus into some kind of pathetic looking misshapen dog demon (like the Beast of Darkness but in much less cool form, bc that’s essentially what the fetus was before Miura overwrote it) who follows Guts around and reminds him of what he’s in danger of becoming. Guts picking up Slug’s behelit is the last shot before the Golden Age begins.

Theresia is a more angry version of Jill, and they’re both examples of Black Swordsman Guts ruining lives wherever he goes, along with the zombie girl in chapter 2 - it’s all variations on a theme of Guts sort of creating mini versions of himself bc of his traumatized lashing out. Zombie kid is most metaphorical in becoming a monster after listening to Guts’ cynical take on dying by the sword; Jill goes back to her abusive Gambino-esque father when her potential escape, Rosine, is killed; Theresia swears vengeance when Guts kills her father who couldn’t sacrifice her to save himself.

(this mini me thing would parallel Slug and Rosine’s abilities to create their own monsters, btw. Cycle of violence kinda thing.)

Everything else follows the manga up until Guts and Casca start getting romancey. I’d cut that out completely. They can have a burgeoning friendship but there’s no romantic undertones and no sex and no meddling Judeau etc. Casca still fights Guts and stabs him and yells at him about Griff but there’s no sucide attempt. She still confesses to her crush on Griffith because it’s a good griffguts parallel, but definitely doesn’t say she was lying to Guts and herself when she said she wanted to be Griffith’s sword. But I do want that “Griffith’s not a god... and I am a woman” line in there because it’s such a good parallel.

Guts monologues about his newfound dream to Godo in a flashback during the Wyald fight instead, then does the waterfall log thing and breaks several bones, then gets told off by Erika who points out he just wants to fight Zodd again. I’d maybe move some of Godo’s lines about Guts metaphorically being a nicked sword to here too. Also show the dragonslayer leaning up against a wall lol.

Guts still tells Casca at some point that he fully intends to leave again. Maybe during the rescue mission. Because yk we still need that moment where Griffith overhears someone telling Guts to leave.

Finally the last change is that Casca dies with Judeau, Guts manages to survive until Femto wakes up, they have a moment staring each other down, there’s a clear parallel to a moment of Guts’ childhood - I’m thinkin Guts asks “Why?” and there’s a shot of Femto, shadowed so we only see one eye, a la:

Apostles begin to descend on Guts chanting shit like ‘sacrifice’ and ‘ours,’ (comparison to bb!Guts facing down the wolves btw, Guts is resigned) and then Skull Knight appears and rescues him and we get that last shot of Femto.

The End.

The implication is that Guts and Griffith are alone and monstrous without each other, violence begets violence, relationships are a positive contrast to that but they keep fucking those up, etc. There would still be a slight ray of hope though in comparisons to Jill/Rosine and Slug’s inability to sacrifice Theresia, and Femto lowering his hand, showing that, yk, even monsters have potential. It would be a very thin ray though bc Guts killed those monsters lol so the implication would still be that Guts is kind of doomed to roam the world alone with his sword like Skull Knight or Zodd.

Also... I’d fuck around with the world building and astral plane stuff because Guts and Femto being metaphysically separated doesn’t work for this. I want that thin ray of hope even if it necessarily comes to nothing lol, if only because if I was alternate universe Miura I’d want people to write Femto/apostle Guts fanfic. So no mention that the Godhand can only appear when someone uses a behelit, maybe even imply somehow that Femto could show himself to Guts at any time, he’s just snubbing him.

Anyway yeah, ty for asking.

also if you’re interested I once wrote a very long and involved post here about what I’d change if I had free range to adapt Berserk if you want a longer answer with more details that follows the actual story much more closely (including a less involved take on my answer here lol).

#Anonymous #ask #a #b #theme: opinion #theme: adaption

[burtlederp]

Writing Blurb 2

Heyyyy this is actual whump! Got an idea for a thing, decided to write it out and post it for all y'all to enjoy. It's not my best piece of writing, but it's better than nothing.

TW minor gore, violence, blood, knives... uh idk, if I missed something, someone tell me lol. Hope y'all enjoy!

Moe leaned against the wall, huddled in a corner, eyes squeezed shut. His brown, shaggy hair lay in clumps on his bloodied head, his hands bound behind his back, chest rising and falling with shuddered gasps. Broken ribs made every lung of air agony, while his head throbbed, his sore, raw wrists protesting being tied back any longer. But he ignored the pain, just trying to focus.

The demon, the spirit, the ghost, the monster that haunted his mind had been so much louder since the torture had started. It howled and screamed and bellowed constantly, slamming its claws against the mental cage he had put it in. It wanted out. But Moe didn't want to lose his body, not to it. 

The door screeched open, causing Moe to flinch, pressing his cheek against the wall. "N-no…"

"Yep, I'm back," His captor said casually, shutting the door behind himself. "Did you miss me?" He asked sweetly, standing over Moe's weak and huddled form. His face soured when his captive didn't reply.

"Open your eyes and answer me," He growled, a hard slap connecting with Moe's exposed cheek. He gasped, not expecting it, and did as he was told, forcing himself to raise his head and look his captor in the eyes, lip quivering.

"P-please, no more…" He whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. He couldn't take it. Not anymore. He had had enough. One more waterboarding session, one more set of lashes or beatings, and he'd lose control. 

"Yeah, sorry. Not an option." The captor reached down and grabbed a handful of Moe's hair, yanking him to his feet. He whimpered, knees barely able to support himself, muscles weak. His captor smiled at him, turning his head slightly to see all of Moe's face.

"I like how you're looking, Momo." He nodded. "We're not quite there, but close," He suddenly yanked Moe's hair again, knocking Moe's skull against the concrete wall. He gave a choked gasp, sliding to the floor. 

"I just want to make sure, for this next video we send, you," The torturer punctuated his word with a kick to Moe's stomach, knocking the wind out of his chest. "Look," Another kick, right on top of the first. "Like," Yet another. "Hell." The captor hissed with glee, and his kick went higher, into Moe's upper chest. He coughed, gasping for air, curling into a ball, struggling to focus, but it was difficult when your brain wasn't receiving enough oxygen.

Breathe, Moe, Breathe… Don't… You can't let him win… He thought desperately, but the beast disagreed. 

Let me out, and I can save you from him, It tempted. Moe swallowed, peering weakly up at his captor, who was reaching for him.

"No…" He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again as he was lifted by the shirt and dragged to the middle of the floor.

"Now let's see you, yes," He crouched, turning Moe's head side to side, rough fingers squeezing his bruised jaw. Moe clenched his teeth, trying to bite back tears. What was going to come next? How long would this last? Was anyone coming for him? 

"Oh, come now, you can cry," His captor's voice was full of false kindness, a hand gently brushing hair off of Moe's face. Moe looked up at him, heart pounding, trying to breathe without choking on blood. 

"Please… P-please… No more… I can't…" Moe begged, voice cracking. The captor pulled out a pocket knife, flipping out the blade, smiling as they leaned in close. 

"Y'know, you're rather handsome," He said, wiping blood off his captive's chin, who tried to pull away from his grasp in vain. "Too bad that won't be the case anymore. I want to know what you look like with a scar…" The knife's point pressed against the cheekbone, just below Moe's left eye. He whimpered, trying to jerk away.

"Ah-ah, don't move, or I might put out your eye," The captor warned, and Moe held still, eyes shut, tears beginning to well up, waiting, waiting, waiting for the knife to go in. 

Let me take the reins, A slimy voice said in the back of his mind.

"No…" Moe whispered, and the knife sunk into his flesh, causing Moe to let out a pained cry. 

I will protect you, The voice insisted. 

You won't, you won't, Moe tried to remind himself. "No, no, no…!" He wailed behind his teeth.

"Yes! Very yes," His captor grinned, dragging the knife down his face. Moe shrieked, trying to keep his jaw still. He felt hot, sticky blood, his own blood, flow down his face, pooling in his ear and crawling down to the back of his neck. He could feel his hands being crushed beneath him, bent and twisted in the wrong way, threatening to give at any second. His gasps only made everything worse, forcing broken ribs to expand with his chest, pulling the pieces further apart.

The captor twisted and yanked the knife out from Moe's jaw, prompting another gasp. Tears began to flow down his face. He couldn't help it. 

Let me out! The voice shouted. 

"No…" He moaned, and screamed as suddenly the knife was buried into his arm, and twisted. He arched his back, trying to pull away, but he couldn't, a hand painfully gripping his other arm to keep him in place. His captor was enjoying this, loving every second of Moe's pain. 

LET ME OUT!

"No!" Moe sobbed, and howled as the blade was removed, then was pierced through his ear. He couldn't do this. Moe just couldn't. 

LET ME OUT!!!

"No! No, I can't, please…" His breathing hitched with every sob, every breath a gasp for air. 

"We're almost done," His captor said softly, and began to drag the knife across Moe's forehead. 

LET ME OUT!!

Moe just cried, unable to fight anymore. He drew into himself, eyes stinging as blood flowed into them. 

"There," The captor leaned back, closing the knife. "You look half-dead. Perfect." He got to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute with the camera, you baby. Don't move an inch!" He laughed, exiting the room.

Moe lay on the floor, feeling his grip on the chains of the beast loosening. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. It was too much.

"I yield," He cried to the empty room. "I yield."

Steven hummed to himself, fiddling with the camera as he walked down the hallway. He had washed his hands, he had his cool mask, the tripod was tucked under his arm. He wouldn't film too much, he didn't really feel like editing today, all that was needed was an update, anyway. Keep the buyers aware that every second they weren't here, every moment they spent unable to find him, their friend was closer to death. 

He opened the door to the cell, cheerily calling to his captive. "Moooe, I'm ba--" He stopped. Moe wasn't here. There was blood on the floor, still fresh, where he had just been, but he himself was not in the room. Steven turned, looking down the hallway, feeling anger bubble in his stomach. How?! He thought, about to step back out, when a drop of warm liquid plopped onto his head. He stopped, reaching up to his face to gather the wet on his fingers. Pulling away, he found blood there. 

Steven looked up, and didn't have enough time to scream before a dark body slammed down on him, smashing him into the concrete floor. Teeth sunk into his shoulder, clawed fingers digging into his throat, but he wasn't able to cry out, all the air knocked from his lungs. The attacker yanked back, taking a chunk of Steven's flesh with them in their teeth. Feeling the grip of it loosen slightly, Steven scrambled free, cutting his hands on the sharp pieces of the broken camera as he crawled to the opposite wall, pressing himself against it as he tried to breathe. Finally able to see his attacker, he involuntarily shrieked in fear. 

There was his captive, but it wasn't. Moe sat, or rather crouched, but his eyes were black, glowing yellow rings set on their prey. His back had warped, a couple vertebrae too many now, his limbs seeming longer than before. His fingernails had disappeared, instead his fingers now giant, sharp claws. The bloodied, mutated form of Moe grinned at him with razor-sharp, needle-like teeth, holding his flesh in its mouth.

It suddenly stood--yes, it was definitely taller now, its feet had grown longer and were clawed too--staring down at Steven. The light behind its head, he could only see the yellow circles of its pupils, the rest of its face in shadow. He heard it swallow.

"It's been a looong time since I was in control," Moe's voice came from it as it stretched, but it was drier, raspier, more sinister. "Feels nice, I'll admit. I see why you were enjoying it." Blood dribbled down its face and its neck, from new cuts and from its lips.

Steven stared up at the monster in fear, wishing he could sink into the floor. He hadn't prepared for this. He had no plan. But he wasn't going to die without a fight. He swiped his leg under those of the monster, knocking it off balance. It stumbled to the side as Steven pushed himself off the wall, staggering out of the cell as fast as he could, breathing hard, holding his shoulder with one hand. Blood was already spilled down his front, but he ignored the pain of it. He had to run, he had to get away.

He heard the sound of clawed feet scraping against the ground, heard snarls of something inhuman behind him. He tried to run faster, but it felt like a bad dream, the sounds getting closer no matter how fast he ran. He screamed, panic rising up into his throat. He was silenced abruptly as he was tackled, those awful, wicked clawed hands wrapping around his throat, tight enough to cut off air. He struggled, flailing in the beast's grip, but it was so much stronger now. It turned him over, staring down at him with those terrible eyes, that horrifying grin. It moved its hands, one slipping quickly up to his forehead, and the other pressing down so hard on his chest he could almost feel his ribs snap, leaving his throat exposed. Steven's eyes widened. 

"N-no, no, please, no, NO--!!" The dying wailings were cut short as those sharp teeth ended him. There was no voice now, just the sound of a monster, feasting. 

#whump #torture #mine #my writing #whump writing #writing blurb #burtleblurb #monster #possession #inner demon #gore #blood #whump community

[radley-writes]

GENRE: Adult Fantasy/Idiocy Target Wordcount: 90 000 words Status: idk man I just wrote the first chapter

All was lost.

Their Champion, dead. Their armies defeated – no; decimated. Javelins sprouted from empty battlefields; rivers sickened with rot and blood. Fallen warriors, resurrected by the foulest of magics, rampaged across the very kingdom they had given their lives to defend. The resultant bedlam was terrifying to the common folk, unsightly to the aristocracy, and downright awful for tourism.

Someone had to make a stand. Someone had to prove to all humanity that their spirits were not crushed; that there were still those in this realm who would oppose tyranny or die trying.

In the Marquis of Alesté’s case, it was to be the latter.

Vizighul Volgotha (demon, necromancer – and, as of last week, new Queen of Avalonia) eyed the claymore that had taken residence in her chest.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Did you mean to put that there?”

The Marquis of Alesté had assumed the ‘killing’ part would automatically follow the ‘stabbing’. That was his first mistake.

His second was to blurt “Yes?”

“Shame,“ said Volgotha. "I live for the day an assassin turns out to be a blind knight who mistook me for some sort of ornamental sword-rack.”

She extracted the blade, flailing a bit in her efforts to reach to where the pommel protruded from her spine like the rod on a cheap puppet. Her black shroud fluttered despite the lack of a breeze. Wisps of it clung to the sword, shadowmatter unspooling like midnight silk thread, coiling serpentine around the markings etched along the length of the blade.

“Oh, my. Ninety-nine complex pentacles... This really is the spitting image of the Dawnbreaker. You charged all of these yourself?” A mute shake of Alesté’s head. “That’s unfortunate. White Magic is all about the personal touch.”

“It is?” Alesté managed. His face had paled to match his powdered, jewel-encrusted wig.

Volgotha turned the claymore over, ooooh-ing at the matching pentacles on the blade's reverse. “Of course! One sod attempted to assassinate me with a dagger they bought off a charlatan at a fete. Runes were all nonsense; didn’t even tickle. I was quite insulted.”

“A-and you are not insulted now, my Liege?”

“Hardly.” Volgotha’s eyes were her only visible feature: two portals to the palace furnace suspended in the bottomless dark beneath her hood. At Alesté's words, they narrowed to amused crescents. “At least you put in a little effort. It’s not like this is unexpected, you know. Many people try to kill me.”

“Some of us daily.” That was the maiden who lounged against the arm of Volgotha’s new skull-bedecked throne. It looked, to Alesté’s eyes, to be made from a bundle of bleached sticks. He had this horrible suspicion they were tibia. 

An amber-skinned waif of Indegal descent, trussed in the latest frocks and frills of Avalonian fashion, this girl had shown no reaction as Alesté, urged by the mutterings of his fellow noblemen, snuck up behind the demon and buried his claymore to the hilt in her spine. She certainly hadn’t issued any warning.

Volgotha gave the claymore a little shake. “Did you want this back?” she asked Alesté.

“You’re returning it?” the girl asked.

“Is that not polite?”

“He tried to kill you. Attempted murder, from anyone but family, annuls the need for courtesy.”

The Marquis could see through Volgotha. The sword had gouged out a slim but clean slice; he had a clear view of the opulent red-gold tapestries, currently being unstrung from the brass ceiling rails. Several serfs were in charge of replacing them with monochromatic versions with a macabre screaming skull motif – out with the old, in with the new. Most had paused in their task to watch.

“It’s not like he succeeded.” Fronds of shadow laced the edges of the hole. They wavered like the tendrils on an anemone, fading to translucent immateriality at their tips. “Anyway, the charging of all those pentacles must’ve incurred significant cost. The man’s descendants might want to frame the sword and hang it on a wall in his memory.”

“Hang it on a wall?”

“What do you propose doing with a weapon so large?” Volgotha waved the two-meter blade. It struck the Marquis that she – a tall yet spindly creature, each limb thin as a bone – was holding it one-handed. “It’s hardly an instrument of subtlety.”

"Well," said the girl, “you know what they say about middle-aged men and big swords.”

Those hell-red eyes blinked twice. “I do?”

“It’s the same thing they say about middle-aged men and fancy carriages.”

"...Ah.”

The Marquis let their conversation wash over him. He found his distorted reflection in the steel.

How could he fail? How was it possible? Had he not been fastidious, recreating the design with ruler and protractor, perfect down to the angles on the stalks of the runes? The original Dawnbreaker might have broken, might’ve shattered Avalonia’s hopes for victory with it, but the sword Alesté rammed through Volgotha was a perfect copy.

It was supposed to be the monster's unmaking. It was supposed to free Alesté’s kingdom. It was supposed to save the world.

“Don’t look so glum,” drawled the girl. She pushed off the throne, stalking closer. The heels of her embroidered boots clicked against the marble floor. “You've got the tool down! It’s just the wielder who’s lacking. Only one woman could ever make my mother stay dead.”

“And,” said Volgotha, “we all know what I did to her.”

The shadowmatter spilled in Alesté’s attack squirmed back beneath her shroud. The fronds interwove across that ugly gash, which bored through the place where most humans kept their hearts.

The Marquis’ third mistake was assuming Volgotha had one of those.

His knees were stockinged in the finest Shovu silks. They weren’t designed for kneeling. Alesté dropped anyway, patellae striking marble: “Mercy, my King!” He wrung his hands, bowed his head. “Please, have mercy!”

“I intend to.” Volgotha gave the claymore one last appraisal, shrugged, and tossed it away. It struck the dais, skittering along for several meters before scraping to rest against her throne. The racket made the other noblemen tremble, from their wigs to their ruffs and the feet in their brocaded boots. None dared divert their gaze from Volgotha as her hand – dark as umbra, the core of a shadow – delved below the neckline of her robes. 

She extracted a stone darker still. Blacker than obsidian, deeper than an oceanic trench. The sort of nothingness that ate stars.

Volgotha raised the gem. It suckled on the light, voracious, plunging the hall into gloom. The Earls huddled together. Did they feel as Alesté did? As if a ghastly vibration had sunk into their bodies, magnified in their ribcages and the roots of their teeth? As if they were screaming at the top of their lungs, yet unable to make a sound?

Volgotha held the black jewel over the Marquis of Alesté. "Don't worry," she said (and her red eyes pinched up at the corners, as if she were smiling). “I’ll make it quick.”

Here we go - a new high(ish) Adult Fantasy! Expect hair (and dead)-raising exploits, unconventional narrators, deconstructed tropes, and found-family nonsense. I’ll introduce the characters soon~ 8D

#my writing #amwriting #writeblr #violetvineyard #fantasy writing #writers on tumblr #bad necromance

[you-andthebottlemen]

56 - Request: SIDETRACK song fic

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Going against my better judgement, a verrryyyy drunk Evangeline is posting this at 4am.... 

I got home a couple days ago and life hasn’t been so kind to me.  Aka I had ‘welcome home’ drinks with friends which turned into me crying over all the scary things going on for me right now and making everyone just watch catfish/van videos with me.....

You wouldn’t believe how many tries it took to type this without typos...anywayyyy please send me your thoughts and ENJOY!! And listen to past me below:

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

Okay so I don’t think I’ve ever worked as hard or as long on a request before....I’m pretty proud of this one? I tried to draw both from the request and the lyrics and meld it all together. Ahhh I hope you all love it as much as I do! 

Would honestly love some feedback on this one, so if you read it and love it or hate it or something in between, please feel free to drop me a message or an ask! I just want my writing to get better so I wanna know what works and what doesn’t etc. Just give me any and all thoughts :)

Based on this request:

A Sidetrack song fic where the reader is one of Van’s best friends (like a second Larry) and they’ve always been more than just mates... and they start to get somewhere but then Van gets the hots for another girl and he always has to visit when they tour by her house, but they fall out and the reader’s the god in the ‘if I try to talk to god and she’s forgot your name, you won’t get through’ lyric and Van realises that it’s the reader that he’s really wanted all along? [1/2] And it’s kind of angsty because the reader’s like ‘well why didn’t you have me when you had the chance’ and there’s really sad Van because he realises how dirty he did the reader but it ends with a big load of fluff? Is this a bad concept? Idk [2/2]

I hope this is everything you wanted anon, thank you sooo much for requesting <3

Also I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this from two POV’s! It seemed to make more sense to me to write a song fic from Van’s POV idk….

E x

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‘YOUR’ – reader’s POV:

Your roommates were away, you had no idea where Larry was and since Van would be late back from the studio, you felt a little lost at your own house party. It had grown way bigger than planned and you didn’t know half the people who’d shown up. You escaped to the kitchen, thinking it would be a refuge from the drunken house guests and their plus one’s. But alas, you were thrown into the deep end of drinking games. Somehow, you’d been convinced to play a round of Truth or Dare. You despised the game, well drinking games in general, but were tipsy enough already not to care. The music was loud in your ears and your whole body was buzzing.

So far you’d been lucky, relatively speaking. You pranked called your sister. You told the story of your most embarrassing sexual encounter. It was all pretty juvenile but that was okay. You just kept drinking your way through your six pack of canned ciders and enjoyed the feeling of slowly becoming intoxicated. Though through your drunken haze, you managed to spot a familiar black suede jacket and mop of sandy brown hair try and pass through the kitchen unnoticed.

“Vaaan!”

Van turned on his heels, his face lighting up when he saw you. He came over and leant on the wall beside where you were sat. You rested your head on him and he stroked your hair gently as a hello. Quickly you pulled away and introduced Van to anyone at the table he’d not already met.

“Gotten a bit mental here y/n,” he laughed, looking around him. You nodded and shrugged; not your problem right now.

“Come and play Van!” Ella interrupted, reaching out to hold his arm and batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

Your stomach nauseated for a moment. She probably had a crush on him, quite a few your friends did. No one understood how you could simply be friends with Van and not head over heels in love with him. Though what people didn’t know, was that somewhere along the way you’d began to feel some very non-platonic feelings develop. This terrified you beyond belief. You were y/n and Van. Best mates. You’d seen the worst of each other and you’d seen the best, shared life experiences, grown together. You were the ‘female Larry’ apparently. You knew nothing else. And because of all this, you kept your feelings a secret, buried deep inside, too afraid of losing him.

“Nah, I was just gonna duck out for a smoke actually,” he replied, trying to worm his way out politely.

“Come on Van…I daaare you,” you replied, looking up at him mischievously.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist that glint in your eyes. Van took one of your cans and sat down beside you with a heavy eye roll.

Sure, maybe you and Van were a little closer than just friends at times with your cuddles or meaningless flirtations. Sometimes you even thought that just maybe, he felt the same things for you back. However, you were never sure and never confident enough to say anything. You just suffered in silence and pretended you didn’t feel whatever it was you felt.

Despite his strong dislike of drinking games, Van was actually enjoying himself. Everyone was laughing and goofing around, Van had a grin plastered to his face and you felt warm inside seeing him take part in some normality. It was good for him.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Van replied confidently then took a sip of his drink.

“Van, I dare you to kiss y/n,” one of the girls said, a sly smile on her face.

Your stomach dropped and your heart seized up in your chest. No way. You didn’t want your first, or only kiss, with Van to be because of a stupid, drunken dare. You began to panic and sweat lightly. With a gulp you glanced at Van. He had a dreamy little smile on his lips. You wanted to stop playing, to back out. Though you found yourself too nervous to speak.

Everyone else at the table looked utterly thrilled at the prospect of seeing you two kiss, except Ella who wore a tiny frown.

“Alright…” Van said quietly to himself then skulled the rest of his can. “Pucker up, babe,” he winked. You just stared at him blankly.

Before you could prepare for or even think about what was happening, Van moved in and held a hand to your jaw then pressed his soft, cider flavoured lips to yours. You swore your heart stopped. After a second of shock induced stillness, you kissed him back. Hard. You heard people cheer and whistle but all you could think about was how Van’s lips were warm and his faced seemed to fit perfectly together with yours and how his hand felt cupping your cheek.

When you both pulled back for air, you met his swimming blue eyes for a moment, and both just stared into each other. It was a proper kiss, not just a peck and you didn’t know what to make of it. Van sat back into his chair and laughed as he hung an arm around the back of your chair casually. You couldn’t wrap your head around what’d just happened; you were too drunk and too dizzied by your feelings and rapid heart rate. You sat back quietly and took another gulp of cider from your half empty can, then forced a smile onto your  dazed face. The rest of the game played out like a dream; you couldn’t focus and things felt blurry. Your mind was stuck on the fact that you’d just kissed Van, your best friend and it was a big fucking deal for you. Was it a big deal for him too?

Eventually you sipped water and sat out of the final rounds under the pretence you were feeling dizzy; not exactly a lie. You watched as Van completed dare after dare and listened to the occasional truth he’d have to spill. When your mate from work, Todd suggested another game, you pulled a face. Van took your hand in his under the table and without a fight, you let him lead you away out of the kitchen.  

In the living room you spotted Larry playing cards on the sofa around the coffee table, wedged between the arm rest and a couple making out. Nice. Van picked up a bottle of wine from the coffee table, careful not to disturb the game. You looked at all the chaos around you; people hooking up, dancing, talking, taking photos. Some poor chap on the floor. Van placed a hand on the small of your back.

“Wanna get outta here?”

“Yes please.”

You and Van slipped away from the heart of the party and disappeared to your room. You collapsed back onto your bed with your eyes shut. Even though you were still, the alcohol in your blood made you feel as though you were actually on a boat rocking side to side.

Van shed his jacket then fiddled around with your record player but gave up when he realised the music from the living room would drown out anything he put on. He sat beside you on the bed and opened the bottle he’d brought. You sat up and he held it out to you. You took a swig then passed it back. You took it in turns with the bottle while making pointless, drunk chatter under the yellow glow of your fairy lights. All the while, the thought of kissing Van played on your mind.

When you’d had enough wine, you fell onto your back again and stared up at the ceiling. Van put the bottle on the floor then lay down, his shoulder pressed to yours. You were close enough to smell his cologne and hear his breath. You shut your eyes and Van let out a contented sigh.

“Some dare huh…” you said nervously, but your tone light-hearted.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. Van moved to lay on his side and face you, his head propped up with his arm. “You’re a good kisser,” he added.

You fluttered your eyes open and gazed up at him. He was really close now and your chest tightened once again. You didn’t know how to reply but you were sure the hot pink blush on your cheeks said it all. Van’s eyes were sparkling in the dim light, his eyelashes casting small shadows onto his cheeks. You looked at the seas of freckles dotted around his face, his gingery stubble, the shape of his pink lips. Quite simply, he looked beautiful. Van was staring at you too and he seemed to notice your eyes on his lips. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. This was brand new territory for you both.

“Van I- “

Before you could finish your sentence, Van swooped in and kissed you, again. Your eyes widened in shock for a moment then you melted into the kiss. You grabbed his hair urgently in your hands and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. You didn’t realise how desperate you were for this moment until you were thrown into it. You found your rhythm together and things heated up quickly. Van slipped a warm hand under your shirt, running his fingers lightly across your skin, making you shiver. You pulled away slightly and looked at him. Both of you breathed heavily.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

You nodded and moved your hands slowly to his belt, keeping your eyes locked on his. They were still sparkling but now full of lust; it drove you mad to see him look at you that way.

“It’s not weird?” you asked.

“Not weird,” he breathed with eyes half shut, and impatiently kissed you again.

You managed to undo Van’s belt and he ripped it away, your shirt close behind. Somehow you both shed the rest of your clothing and you hardly had a moment to think about the fact you were naked in front of Van for the first time; utterly vulnerable. You were too intoxicated by both alcohol and him to care. Van pulled you beneath the sheets, skin on skin and all thoughts of the party outside or drinking games or friendship, left your minds.

……………………………..

You thought things with Van had started to get somewhere after you’d drunkenly slept together for the first time. The sex was messy, but it was intense and felt right. Furthermore, it stirred those feelings in you that you couldn’t ignore any longer. You thought maybe he reciprocated whatever it was that you had begun to feel for him. It had felt like more than just sex between friends. But it seemed you were wrong. It wasn’t too awkward at first but after a little while, Van seemed distant and distracted. Soon enough, he was off on tour again and things became even more complicated.

You spoke on the phone or facetime every so often, but it was different. This was the first time you and Van had been on the outs and it was killing you. You’d spoken to Larry briefly; all he’d said was that Van probably had the hots for some girl and his head wasn’t straight because of it, not to take it personally. But you were taking it personally and for the first time, you’d hoped that girl was you. That perhaps his behaviour was because he was struggling to come to terms with his feelings for you too.

Weeks went by and after a long period of deliberation, you decided to take the plunge and tell Van how you felt. When tour was done and he was home, you managed to get Van to commit to coming over for a drink. You heard his knock on the door, you let him in saying a shaky hello. He kissed you on the cheek and asked how you’d been. It all felt forced. Once the pleasantries were done, you decided to bite the bullet.

“Van, I know things with us have been…off lately. But I think I need to tell you…” you began, folding your hands into your lap nervously.

Van placed his drink down on the table and looked at you, his expression unreadable. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled before looking him dead in the eye and letting your heart spill from your mouth.

“I have feelings for you. I tried to ignore it but ever since that one night at the party I just… can’t keep pretending.”

The bombshell was dropped. It felt equally like a weight had been lifted and like you’d just made the worst decision of all time. Van sat up and ran his hands through his hair. Your heart began to pound and you felt a little faint. You couldn’t believe what you’d said, or the implications of such words. Van opened his mouth and for a moment, you thought he might just confess his feelings as well.

“Look, y/n. I…I’ve met someone.”

You blinked slowly and shook your head in disbelief. That was the last thing you expected him to respond with.

“What?”

“I knew it was a mistake for us to sleep together,” he muttered and your heart broke. “It’s messed everything up.” He looked away from you and bit his lip.

“Van, you kissed me first?! You led me on.”

You felt angry now and you fought to hold back tears.

“I was drunk y/n…. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“So this girl then, that’s why you’ve been so distant from me?”

“Partly, I guess. I don’t know...” Van looked down again; he knew he was being a dick.

You scoffed angrily and wiped your watery eyes. It was your own fault for reading so much into it. It was just one instance of drunken sex between friends, nothing more, clearly. You’d been wrong to cling onto any shred of hope that it had been significant. You should never have said anything.

“So, you don’t feel anything for me at all?” you asked bluntly.

“You’re my best mate…” he replied quietly.

You nodded and turned away, that was all the answer you needed. You felt devasted and it made your chest burn. Not only had you been rejected, you’d probably lost your best friend. You couldn’t shake the anger you felt towards Van for taking you to your room, kissing you, initiating things. Though how was he to know that to you, it would all mean so much more? You sighed sadly, letting the pain flood your body and slowly replace the anger. You didn’t expect him to drop everything and just be with you. But you didn’t think the conversation would go like this…

“But that’s my point… we are best mates. I know you like no one else,” you said slowly, trying to let the anger go. “Van, I should be everything you want…”

………………………………

Van’s POV

“But that’s my point… we are best mates. I know you like no one else. Van, I should be everything you want…”

I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I was frozen. Y/n was my best mate apart from Larry. Yeah, we’d had the one night of drunk sex that had made things weird. But I didn’t know she had feelings? That freaked me the fuck out. I’d never have kissed her for that dare if I’d known…I wouldn’t have led her on this way.

Her words, ‘I should be everything you want’ rang through my brain and did my head in.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, like an absolute mug. I was standing there breaking her heart and had nothin’ to say. Christ.

I felt annoyed she’d not said anything sooner about how she felt. And annoyed at myself for having missed it all this time. Y/n let her head fall into her hands and she sniffed, holding back tears. I reached out to put a hand on her arm but she sat bolt upright and ducked away from my touch. Her eyes were all red and glassy.

“You should go Van, forget I said anything.”

“Y/n…”

“Just go Van, go back to your girl.”

Her voice was sharp and hit me like a slap in the face. Y/n stood and motioned towards the door. I was feeling frustrated, mad at the fact she’d thrown all these feelings at me and was upset she wasn’t getting the same feelings from me back.

“Fuck this. See you,” I said, my voice flat and pissed off.

I left without another word, not really sure of what the fuck just happened. I knew I was in the wrong; I could have handled this better. Talk to her sooner, tell her I’d met someone sooner. But how was I to know she had feelings for me? Besides, she didn’t exactly seem willing to talk it out. Guess I’d not given that impression either. I didn’t wanna stick around and fight about it.

Once I was outside her front gate, I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh and raised my arms so I could fold them behind my head to breathe. My mind was racing a million miles an hour and I was full of feelings I didn’t know what to do with. If I was being honest, the fact I’d met someone wasn’t the whole reason I’d been off with y/n. It was just weird after the party, awkward and I didn’t know how to act.

Ironically, the person I would talk with about what to do in this situation would be y/n. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. I contemplated calling Larry, but he was on a night out and didn’t need the bother.

As I walked down y/n’s street to head home, I flicked through my contacts. Zina. The girl I’d met on tour, the one I’d mentioned to y/n. I couldn’t talk to her about all this, but I could talk to her. Distract myself. I checked the time in her part of the world then pushed call. I spent the rest of the walk home talking and laughing with Zina, letting the situation with y/n get flooded out of my head completely.

………………

I was used to the ‘long distance’ sort of thing by now; I was hardly ever in the same place as my friends, family, whoever I was dating. It was always hard, but it was a lifestyle you got used to, especially when the perk of it is getting to travel the world and play music. Me and Zina had hit things off in America when we last toured. She even came out to visit me back in England once. She was incredible. Me and her just bounced off each other immediately, like we’d known each other for ages. Plus, she was dead gorgeous.

I was back in America, staying at hers for a while before a press run started. I was sat on her couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table and scrolling through my phone aimlessly. I decided to log onto Instagram for the first time in what, 6 months? A year? Don’t know. I scrolled down the feed and saw a post by y/n.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I’d not seen her or spoken to her since that night at her house. We’d never not talked for this long before. Were we even still mates? Usually when I’d fall out with someone, I’d just let things go their separate ways. You go your way and I’ll go mine, you know? And that’s sort of what I’d done here too; neither of us had reached out to one another.

Y/n was smiling wide, her arms wrapped around someone I didn’t know. She looked happy but it stung and I couldn’t tell you why. Quietly, Zina sat down beside me. I quickly switched my phone off and put it down.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, handing me a cup of tea and eyeing the phone I’d slid away.  

“Nothin’ babe,” I smiled and leant over to kiss her.

She kissed me back but seemed off, kind of hesitant.

“Why were you looking at that photo of y/n?”

Zina and me had been together a few months now, so I’d told her in short what happened between me and y/n. Her feelings, my lack of, now the no contact.

“I wasn’t, it just came up on Instagram or whatever,” I replied, sighing and rubbing my face with my empty hand.

“Okay…”

I sipped my tea and tucked Zina up beside me. She curled her feet under her and rested her head on my shoulder. We sat in silence for a while just letting the sun from her large glass windows hit us and soak in.

“Do you ever wish things with her had been different?” she asked.

“What? I mean yeah, I don’t like that she’s suddenly gone from my life. Aside from Larry she was my best pal.”

“I mean, do you wish you had tried things with her? Been with her?”

Being thrown this idea of an alternative option threw me off. I’d not considered it all. It was like if someone had suggested I’d date Larry. She was my best friend. She’d always been on one side of the spectrum, off limits. I’d never seen her as anything but what she always was to me.

But then again….I had slept with her that time so I guess it wasn’t the same after all. Maybe subconsciously I had seen her in a different light and so I crossed that boundary with her. Thinking about lines and boundaries made my head spin. The possibility of being in a relationship with y/n genuinely had not crossed my mind, not even when she confessed her feelings to me. It was one that made me feel an overwhelming sense of confusion. It was too much to take apart in my head so I simply pushed it away. She was my friend, like Larry.

“No. Where’s this comin’ from babe?” I asked, looking down at Zina.

She shrugged and looked away. The vibe between us felt weird now, like she was upset about something I couldn’t see. I let out a breath. Girls, Christ.

…………………

“Van, I can’t do this. I can’t be with you while clearly, you’re in love with someone else.”

Zina wiped tears from her eyes and sniffed, avoiding my gaze. My bags were packed by the door, waiting for me to pick them up and run to the taxi to get to the airport with boys. Tour was starting up again. But that could wait right now.

“What? I’m not in love with someone else,” I pleaded, pain and confusion ripping right through me. I moved closer and took her shoulders in my hands. “Please don’t do this, I love you. No one else,” I said softly.

“Stop…please. You know I love you too, but I don’t want this anymore.”

Zina pushed my hands off her and wrapped her arms around herself. Tears leaked down her cheeks and she took a step back. I felt my own eyes start to prickle.

“I don’t fuckin’ understand what you’re sayin’ Zina. Things were good with us? Are good with us. Who am I supposedly in love with?”

“Y/n.” She said bluntly. My eyes bulged and frustration bubbled up inside.

“Fuck’s sake no I’m not. How many times do we have to go through this? She was my friend. Like Larry.”

Zina rolled her eyes angrily.

“Van. You always talk about her with the guys, asking what she’s up to. You write songs about her still, I know you do. She’s always on your mind and you miss her, I get it. But I think if you stop and look a little harder, you’ll see why. You’re in love with her and you don’t even know it,” she let it all spill out of her. I stood in stunned silence at the words being thrown at me.

“It’s not your fault but I can’t keep feeling like I’m second best or just a place holder…” she sniffed, her eyes still running like taps. I wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but I knew she wouldn’t let me.

“You’re not, I swear. Don’t do this,” I begged.

“I just can’t be with you anymore Van. I love you but I can’t.”

Fuck this. I moved closer and grabbed her face in my hands and kissed her. She kissed me back weakly. I could feel her tears melt onto my skin. When I pulled back, hands still on her jaw, I stared at her, thinking maybe she would change her mind. Instead all I got was silence and could see heartbreak written all over face. My hands dropped to my side in shock and defeat. I couldn’t believe it. It was really over, and I didn’t get a say.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her, feeling completely floored and not able to piece anything better together.

“Just please, make it worth it,” she replied and my face scrunched up in confusion. “Fix things with y/n.”

After a final embrace and goodbye despite my protests, I picked up my bags and left. Zina closed the door behind me and I wondered if I’d ever see her again. The taxi van pulled up shortly after and I got in without a word. I was speechless.

“You alright mate?” Larry asked.

“Yeah,” I grunted and looked out the window.

Zina was right, it wasn’t my fault. It was y/n’s. In my mind it made sense to shift the blame to her. I wasn’t in love with her. Zina had left me for no reason.

Days passed and I’d finally told Larry what happened. He kept me stocked up on smokes and whatever else to get me through. I vented my frustration on stage, thrashing about and yelling…and that helped. But I was still in bits about it. I’d lost my best friend and my girlfriend all in a matter of months and the common denominator was me. I was mad at y/n still but equally as mad at myself.

“You need to speak to y/n…just call her,” Larry said finally, fed up to the back teeth with my stroppy moods.

“She won’t wanna hear about my break up mate,” I replied, dismissing the idea. “Plus I don’t know that I really wanna talk to her anyway…”

“She cares about you Van, as much as I do. Give her some credit…”

I sighed and threw the PlayStation controller down beside me. I tipped my head back onto the couch and groaned. Larry paused the game. I rolled my head round to look at him.

“Should I really call her?”

“You gotta try and fix things man. It’s driving us all mad.”

That night after the show, I stayed back in the green room and called y/n. My palms were sweating and I had no idea what I was going to say to her, or where to even begin.

Turns out that didn’t matter; she didn’t pick up. Typical. I turned my phone off and headed outside for a smoke. I stood leaning against the wall breathing the smoke in and out slowly, contemplating everything that’d happened until the ciggie was done. When I got back on the bus Larry threw me an expecting look. I just shook my head and said nothing on the subject.

…………………

I kept trying to call y/n, but I never got through. At first I thought maybe she was just busy but quickly I realised she was ducking my calls. A move I knew well. I texted, even sent one of them Instagram messages but got nothing back. It was driving me up the wall. The anger I felt towards her started to fade away and it was replaced with a sort of panic. I’d well and truly fucked this up.

The rest of the tour dragged by slowly. All I could think of was y/n; it was like a switch had flipped in my head. I spent my days wondering what she was doing, who with. My nights were spent thinking about how things could have been different. I missed her.

In my many hours of contemplation and the many packets of ciggies I went through, it began to dawn on me that y/n was sort of…everything. She gave me direction, kept me grounded, was my voice of reason. She was like god, I looked to her for it all. She had always been there no matter what. And now she was just gone; she may as well have forgotten my name at this point.

When tour finally came to an end, I’d never been more anxious to get home. I needed to get my life back, get y/n back. The whole flight I was jittery and bouncing my leg; annoying Larry and Bondy to no end. When the plane landed, I darted off so quickly the boys lost track of me. As I raced through customs and baggage and all that, I couldn’t help but think of how y/n would always be there to meet me, holding up a card that said ‘McCann’. But this time she wasn’t.

Once I was in the back of a taxi and had given y/n’s address, I phoned her but as usual ignored and straight to voicemail. God, she had the will power of an ox. I texted saying I was home, that I needed to see her. After a few minutes, to my utter fuckin’ surprise, I saw the little text bubble pop up for a second and a response came through. I held my breath.

‘I’m going out’

‘Will you wait for me?’

‘Fine.”

I let out a shaky exhale of relief and put my phone away.

“Mate, do you reckon we can get there ASAP?” I asked the driver, trying to keep my voice normal; he didn’t know how much was on the line for me right now.

“There’s traffic so we’ll have to take the bridge,” he replied.

I thanked him and sat back, staring out the window as we drove. I thought about the night I’d last seen y/n. She’d confessed her feelings and I didn’t listen, didn’t give her a chance, didn’t try to salvage the friendship or even tell her it was okay. I panicked and responded badly. I pushed her away and did her real dirty. I was embarrassed with myself honestly. I could fix it though, I had to. She meant the absolute world to me.

I loved her. I love her.

My heart stopped for a second at the sudden realisation. Zina was right. My daft fuckin’ brain had only just made the connection. I was in love with y/n. I smiled and chuckled to myself as the feelings escaped my heart and spread through my body like wildfire. Bloody hell.

We should have been at y/n’s by now, but we weren’t. I was on the verge of just jumping out the car and running there.

“We’ve taken the quickest route,” the driver insisted.

I wasn’t convinced. We were stuck in traffic and moving dead slow. I thought about y/n waiting for me, probably pissed off at me for taking so long on top of everything else.

“Okay 5, five minutes,” the driver said eventually, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. He could probably tell how impatient I was getting.

When we drove up y/n’s street I was sure I was going to have a heart attack. I’d never been like this over a girl before. But to be fair, it wasn’t just any girl. It was y/n, my best friend. My absolute fucking goddess.

I paid the driver and grabbed my bags. As I walked up her drive, y/n’s words ‘I should be everything you want’ came back to mind. She was everything I wanted and needed and I’d been too blind to see it before now.

………………………

‘Your’ POV

Van crashed through your front door, dropping his bags to the ground in the hallway. He almost went to hug you, but you took a step back. He seemed breathless and his face fell when you moved away from him.

“Y/n…” he said.

The sound of his voice made you feel weak; you’d missed him beyond anything. The last few months had been torture, with ignoring Van and trying to forget your feelings. Though despite everything they only grew stronger. But you swallowed the tears and remembered why you were in this situation to begin with.

“Why did you need to see me?” you asked bluntly.

“Can we sit?”

“Come into the kitchen.”

You didn’t want Van getting comfortable, it would be too easy to just let him back in and fall back under his spell. Standing either side of the kitchen counter opposite each other, you both waited for the other to speak first.

“Thank you for waitin’,” Van said and you shrugged.

Your curiosity had gotten the better of you. You’d been able to ignore Van’s calls and messages while he was away, just. But when he said he was home…you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your heart ached for him as much as you wished it didn’t. You missed your best friend, in fact, you were completely in love with him.

You raked your eyes over Van. He’d not changed physically but he looked like he’d been through hell. His eyes had soft bags under them, his hair was greasy and his eyes looked wild. You wondered what had been going on for him the last few months. You knew he’d been seeing someone but anything beyond that you had no clue as you’d avoided the rest of the boys almost as fiercely as you’d avoided Van, not wanting any reminder of it all.

“Y/n…I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

You looked at Van with stone cold eyes.

“Me and Zina broke up and-“

“Oh, so because you’re all alone now you come crawling back to me?” you snapped.

The nerve he had. You felt taken for granted as a friend, your feelings for him aside.

“No, shit….no. It just made me realise that I’d made a mistake. I need you y/n.”

You heart pounded at his words. Part of you felt outrageously angry and other part felt like you could break down into tears at any moment and just throw yourself into his arms. You shut your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself.

“You said we’d messed everything up. You shut me down and I don’t know…we fell out. I don’t know if this can be fixed. I can’t just forget all that because you ‘need me’ again.”

Van walked over to your side of the counter and stood in front of you. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. You could tell he was genuinely sorry and that he’d felt all the backlash he needed without you pushing him away further. But you just couldn’t see how things could ever go back to the way they were.

“Please y/n”.

“Van, I never expected you to drop everything and be with me. I just needed to tell you how I felt and work through it. You’re my best friend, I needed you to be there for me. You just immediately told me you’d met someone? Besides, you led me on, but that doesn’t matter. You showed me your true colours and it fucking hurt.”

You let the honest truth come out, he needed to hear it. You’d had plenty of time to reflect on how you felt about it all and it felt good to finally get it off your chest. Van looked distraught.

“Trust me if I’d known you had feelings for me, I never would have done that stupid dare…never would have slept with you…There’s so many things I should have said and done different. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t change it now but please let me fix it?” His voice was quiet and whiny, broken in a way you’d never heard. He was being sincere.

You kept silent and looked away, no idea what to do or say. You knew he wasn’t at fault for some of it, he wasn’t to know how you felt. You should have been honest with him before it all led to that night. But you couldn’t shake the resentment you felt towards him for all that followed. Van seemed to take the silence as a rejection and pushed his hair back like he did when he was stressed or nervous.

“Y/n… I love you. Okay? I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes bulged and your jaw dropped in absolute bewilderment.

“What?!” you all but shouted.

“It’s you, I want you. I think I have all along,” he replied quietly, not blinking.

“Are you joking?”

Van’s facial expression melded into one of confusion.

“Well why didn’t you have me when you had the chance?” you asked.

“I didn’t know I felt this way back then and look I’m here now, as soon as I could get here to tell you,” he reasoned.

Van dropped to his knees in front of you and gently took your hands in his. His touch made your skin light up. He looked sad and desperate. The tears had begun to seep out of your eyes and you couldn’t wipe them away so they trickled down your cheeks uncomfortably.

“You have to believe me y/n. I love you and I will make it up to you. You’re my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched. Van was begging you. Seeing him like this only made your heart scream at you louder. You melted down to your knees in front of him and took his face in your hands. Fuck it.

“I love you too, Van.”

His eyes lit up and his mouth opened slightly.

“You do?”

“Of course, you idiot,” you sniffed and chuckled through the tears.

Van pulled you into him and you threw your arms around his neck. You held each other tightly for a long while, collapsed on the floor and folded together. You cried into his neck and he rubbed your back, letting you get it all out. It felt so good to be back in his arms and have the weight of missing him lifted from your shoulders. You didn’t want to let him go; it felt like he was holding all your broken bits together.

As you untangled yourself from him and wiped your face, Van stared at you. He reached out and gently moved the sweaty, tear stained strands of hair from your forehead. Your eyes latched onto his and you were overwhelmed with love. It was almost all too much to believe.

When Van finally kissed you, it felt like all the hurt and all the shit that had happened between you dissipated. It was you and him, together again and as unbreakable as ever.

…………………………………

“Oi, move over,” you grumbled at Van.

He was spread out in your bed like a starfish, taking up all the space.

“Nope,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t contain the smile. Van looked so cute; his hair messy from drying overnight and all bundled up in your duvet. After you placed the fresh mugs of tea down on your bedside table you wiggled in to fit beside him. Once you were under the covers, Van snaked his arms around your middle and pulled you tight against his naked body. Your head was against his chest and you kissed his collarbones.

“Bed day today?” he asked as he crept his hands under your shirt, his voice low and sleepy.

“I’d love that,” you replied happily.

Life in love with your best friend was amazing. Things had slowly been patched up between you and Van, you’d been able to bridge the gap between best friends and relationship well. You still teased each other as much as ever, still had each other’s backs. Only now you got to kiss, have sex and say I love you also; it was perfect.

After a few hours of on and off napping, making out and watching youtube videos in bed, it was time to get up and get ready for your friends to come around. Van sat smoking out of your open window and watched as you put on your makeup, genuinely interested in how it all worked. He was so cute like that.

Larry arrived early to help with the barbeque. He and Van smoked on the patio while it heated up, talking about whatever it was they talked about when you weren’t around. Maybe even you? You watched from the kitchen window as they laughed and bickered between themselves. You’d all come so far since being the spotty, unruly teenagers you were when you’d first met. You never would have guessed you’d end up with Van at all. You weren’t sure if your seventeen-year-old self would be impressed or grossed out by it.

When they gave you the signal it was ready, you carried out the food to be cooked. Once you placed it down, Van slung his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’m never gonna get used to this,” Larry laughed looking between you two.

“Me either,” you and Van said at the same time. You burst out laughing and kissed again, giddy with love for one another.

After dinner, once the music had been turned up and the bottles of spirits brought out, everyone sat around in the living room.

“We should play a drinking game…” Todd proposed, and you rolled your eyes. Some things never changed.

“Yeah. How about Truth or Dare?” Van suggested smugly, his eyes meeting yours.

“No need. You can just kiss me now, don’t need a dare to do it,” you grinned and grabbed Van by the chin before planting a heavy kiss on his lips.

Maybe drinking games weren’t so bad after all?

#Catfish and the Bottlemen #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van #catb #van mccann #van mccann fanfiction #catfish and the bottlemen song fic #van mccann fan fiction #larry lau

[lylvandam]

1/2 You write god tier Greed/Ling stuff so I just wanted to share, was listening to youtube recommendations and Affection by Cigarettes After Sex started playing... Well, imagine a modern AU where Greed has a band, guess he plays either a guitar or bass idk, and Ling is applying to be a lead singer or something like that. Greed's naturally been all high and mighty, showing Ling around his shitty band quarters like it was The Best Place in town and Ling was Highly Privileged to see it,

[2/2 but the moment they finally start jamming and Ling opens his mouth to sing Greed’s absolutely enamored, so much so he plain forgets to play his part and just listens, mouth agape how someone can sound that good. Ling in turn slowly stops singing cause he’s not sure if he should continue now alone, and then they just stare each others for a second, both confused as to why the other stopped singing/playing. Ahah yeah, idk if this was going anywhere. Anywho, have a good one!! Love your works❣️]

Sorry it took me a couple of days to reply to this! I got inspired and threw something together, hope you enjoy it, anon! (This is a link to the song in question BTW)

“I still don’t think we’re going to find the right one, putting fliers in a place like this!”The bar they were currently in was extremely not their crowd, full of students and grads from the local uni.“Come on Greed, now you’re being stubborn just for the hell of it. After the stunt Kimblee pulled we need a new singer and, as a group, we decided where to search for them.”

To Greed it seemed like it was Martel who was being obtuse just for the hell of it, but it wasn’t like he was ever going to say that out loud, he somewhat valued his own life.

“Have you seen the people that hang in this place, they’re so not in tune with our… way of living our life”“And now you’re just saying things”“No no I mean it, look around you.” He waved his hands at the room, making some of the horrible bourbon he was drinking spill from his glass (it was almost a miracle they served bourbon at all). “They’re boring, they’re… normal… They lack our vibe… our aesthetic. I don’t want one of these people as a singer in my band.”“If you’re waiting for someone with your same fashion taste to get a singer, we’re literally going to perform for the first time In the actual Devil Nest.”Greed looked at her.“You know, like the name of our band…”Greed kept looking at her.“and we’ll be performing in hell…”….“… Because we’ll be dead…”…“…From old age…”…“…because NOBODY IN THE WORLD HAS YOUR FASHION TASTE.”She shouted the last part.“You know that when you have to explain a joke five times it means it didn’t land, right?”“You got it the first time, you’re just being an asshole about it. Anyway, if it makes you feel any better this place has the only person with an edgier and flashier sense of fashion than yours, look” She gestured toward a small blond guy that seemed to be really into red, leather, and skulls.“The only one? You’ve met my sibling Envy, right?”Martel smirked at him but didn’t respond, both of them looking curiously at the small guy in question that was now near their flier.Huh, maybe they would get someone with the right vibe to audition after all.The blondie picked the flier up and took it with him at the counter where he started talking to a guy in a neon yellow shirt that seemed for some reason incapable of buttoning. They talked for a while and Greed and Martel didn’t even pretend they weren’t snooping in what was going on over there. They showed the flier to the bartender and the guy pointed right at the table where they were sitting.Shit.They both jumped in unison and tried to cover it by gulping their drinks way to quickly and starting a random conversation without really saying anything (they were never so in sync with each other like the times they embarrassingly got caught staring at strangers…)

When they saw the shadow of a person standing in front of their table they looked up to find, of course, the neon hipster one, looking down at them with the flier in hand and a hopeful smile on his face.Of fucking course.————————————–

“I would have made you more like a parent’s garage type of band.”The neon hipster guy (that had introduced himself as Ling, a name that Greed was desperately trying to not remember because fuck no he wasn’t going to have a fucking hipster as lead singer in HIS band) was snooping around the room they rented as a rehearsal studio/chillout place/ their own personal bar.The guy hadn’t rested a minute since they met him twenty minutes before, talking and smiling and laughing and flirting which was all very annoying because he really seemed to belong in a boyband (okay okay he wasn’t that young, he seemed even almost a little too old to be a grad student, but still)Greed couldn’t stand genuinely cheerful people. Except for Bido, but he was a special case. Nobody could dislike Bido, come on!

“But man, this place is so cool” neon yellow kid sipped the fucking whatever hipster Aperol cocktail he brought from the bar. (Yes, they were *that* fucking close to that godforsaken bar).If it wasn’t that they were getting desperate he wouldn’t have even considered letting a guy like that even see this place on a map, let alone let him do this unofficial audition.How did he manage to convince them to do this right now anyway? Greed couldn’t even remember.“Is that a Marshall amp? Whoa, you people don’t mess around! And this Fender Bullet, wow!”Okay okay, at least he did have some kind of taste in guitars…“Man I can’t believe I’m going to start playing in a place like this.”“Wait, wait wait, you’re not going to start to do anything unless *I* say so.”“Yeah yeah, sure.”Did he just fucking dismiss him with a wave? Him? Oh, this guy was going down!He took his guitar, now knowing exactly what he was going to do.“Anyway, this one is mine, Martel over there” he gestured at Martel, that was chilling with a beer on the couch looking bored (which was fake as fuck because Greed knew how much this thing meant to her) “is our drummer and you probably never going to meet the bass player and second guitar so I’m not even going to go there right now.”“It’s your guitar? It’s first rate!”Greed felt a strike of pride in its stead for the praise (it really was his most treasured possession) and almost didn’t notice how his shade had been ignored.Neon Yellow was indeed still smiling like nothing had happened and Greed wanted to make it go away. Oh, so fucking much.“We need someone who can hold on their own, so you’re not going to play with the band, you’re just going to play with me. No drums, no bass, no backing. This is going to be entirely acoustic. Is that alright.”“Fine by me” He took the mic and switched it on, and Greed did the same with his amp.“Perfect, You said you knew the three songs from the flier, right?”“Yup”“Then let’s begin with the Cigarettes After Sex.”And he started playing.Greed oscillated between strumming his part away, letting everybody in the room understand how much he wasn’t on board about any of this, and giving the brat the performance of a lifetime, just to make him understand just how much of a different level they were.He decided for the former and not because he also vaguely had a wish to impress him, with his ponytail and his face.Anyway, he did the intro in that casual impromptu way he had rehearsed so many times.Neon Yellow looked incredibly impressed there for a minute (in his face) and ecstatic instead of crushed for some reason.Then he closed his eyes and started singing.And then Greed couldn’t tear his own eyes away. As if watching him could help him appreciate the experience of the song more.The experience of hearing Ling sing, more.Because that’s what it was. There wasn’t any other way to describe it.Every single part of it was an experience that Greed wanted to never end. From the voice lulling him, to the confident tone, to the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth, to the lights and shadows dancing on his face from the headlights of cars passing on the street below, to the fucking neon yellow shirt.Everything was part of it.Greed had heard the song so many fucking times sung in so many different ways, and this was the first time he felt it, really felt it.And in that moment all he could think was, “I want him” not even knowing he himself what he meant by that.Then everything stopped.Midverse, Ling stopped, opened his eyes and looked up at him… confused, for some reason?Greed wanted it back.“Why did you stop!?”Ling seemed even more confused.“You… weren’t playing anymore? I didn’t know if…”Greed wasn’t…?He looked down and saw that yeah, his hands weren’t on the guitar anymore.He was so fucking caught in the whatever the hell that was that he had stopped playing.Well, shit.“I actually thought we were doing fine”Ling looked sheepish for the first time that evening.“Yeah yeah no. It was… okay I guess.”A snort came from the sofa…where Martel was… right, they weren’t alone, why had he been feeling like they were alone?“Yeah right ‘it was okay, and I just had an ethereal experience because of it… because it was okay…”“Shut up Martel.”“I was being thoughtful of you, Greed, I could have said, ’ and I almost jiz…”“OKAY LING WELCOME TO THE ‘DEVIL NEST’ YOU’RE OUR NEW SINGER NOW!”Ling beamed at him and Greed wanted to… nope not thinking of that.“Yes! I am so psyched! I cannot wait to see what we can do together…” don’t smile like an idiot Greed, don’t smile like an idiot Greed, don’t smile like an idiot Greed, don’t smile like an idiot Greed, don’t smile like an idiot Greed, don’t… “I mean, if the others are half as good as you, Greed, being here is going to be awesome!”Fucking Martel was snorting again (why could she always know what was going on!? so irritating)Also, if Greed didn’t find a solution to what was happening in his… head… right now this was going to be fucking impossible to withstand!But being able to hear Ling sing every day was worth it. (Even with Martel’s knowing smirk accompanying every performance)“I cannot wait to meet them! I also have to say that I have other skills up my sleeve, something I can bring to the table to make us get to the next level.” He took Dolcetto’s guitar that was sitting near him.“Oh yeah? You’re a decent player?”“Oh no nothing like that, I know like five chords. I meant, because of my father’s job I was always traveling around the world when I was a kid, so I’m fluent in a lot of languages.”Confusing but okay?“And…”“I lived in Germany for over a year, meaning I can speak German pretty well…”Oh no, he wasn’t gonna.“… meaning we can do this.”He did.He fucking started playing 99 Red Balloons.How was this Greed’s life?

#greed the avaricious #ling yao #greedling #fmab #fma greed #Anonymous #thank you so much anon!!! #made my day(s)

[queenie435]

Saturday,

I woke up early and without a word to the vampire I left the house. I was heading to a close friends home of mine. He invited me to stay for the rest of the weekend after hearing about my difficult evening the previous night.

Something heavy on my shoulders it seened, I reluctantly made the hour drive. More than anything I wanted to be a hermit that day. Lay around and wallow in my self pity. Allow some rebuttal maybe. If anything though, I've learned to keep moving on those days. Fight back..

Within a half hour on the road I was already feeling somewhat better. Energy returning where I thought was none.

We planned for a hike that afternoon and I dropped my son off at Grandpas before we started.

The woods as always were beautiful. Suprisingly warm. Sunshine swept through the ravines. Looking up, smiling as it Twinkled through the tree branches at us. Signs of spring were popping up all around us as we pushed into the forest.

I love nature. I pray each time I go that she still loves me.

In certain spots we'd sit quietly for long periods of time. I loved it that my friend refrained from asking me anything more than if I was thirsty from time to time.

We just walked, walked about for most of the afternoon.

Along the way He showed me a couple new crystals he had recently picked up. One stuck out to me. It was a beautiful piece, A crystal quartz tower. Almost flawless but a few small clouds in the center.

I held onto it for most of the hike.

As we grounded, Gaia revealed some extra gifts to us that afternoon. Some Dryad saddles, ramps and fiddle heads that paired nicely with our grilled chicken that evening for dinner.

His wife went to bed early and we quietly talked in his sun room/fireplace room for a long while. One white candle dimly lit the room between us.

As we talked, I couldnt help but notice the return of that heavy unsettling feeling. To the pit of my chest. Uneasy, unsettled, energy stuck. Then flash memories of the verbal argument the night before with my girlfriend would sneak up like a cold knife in the side. I'd wince at the pain.

I was so sharp and hurtful with my tongue. We've been together for years. I've never spoken that way ti her.

Dissapointed in myself for losing my control. The control I kept so well, so fortified I thought for years now. A strength I took pride in. To prideful in my strengths I thought... Always a harsh lesson.

As the pressure built, I lost track of my friends conversation. He tends to enjoy himself talking anyways.

I needed to take a trip inside to investigate what it was that was crushing me so harshly. Grinding away at one side of my skull slowly it felt. Depositing negative thoughts and feelings. Sapping my energy.

As I attempted to feel for what it was, take time to let it kill me if it needed to. I naturally reached into my pocket for a crystal to hold. To help me work.

My left hand felt around, I was happy for that moment to remember the quartz tower my friend let me hold for the hike.

Now, as I raised it to the candle light. Tower pointing up, I let the candle light dance to me through the flat sides. I found a side that gave me goosebumps

as I gazed. A bliss washed over me almost instantly.

Through the clarity of the quartz, slowly appearing, etheric golden wheels like cogs started forming inside. Like if you were opening up and peering into the innards of the swiss watchmakers finest watch. I was amazed! My mind was clear again! So clear, so blissful.

Surprised, I broke my concentration. Put the crystal back into my lap and slowly the bliss faded. My friend still talking quietly to himself stopped mid-sentence.

He asked me "Wtf was that?? I asked him to explain, what??.

I knew He felt the bliss too. But wanted to hear him say it.

He said he's never felt so good.

I asked him to watch quietly.

I repeated the crystal gaze.

The golden gears started to appear again.

Bliss washed over us both. This time, I sat for over an hour transfixed on the beauty revealing itself to me through the crystal. The crystaline shield around us now slowly increasing in size. My friend, I didn't realize at first, but He started channeling to me with his eyes closed. Telling me the size and design of the shield from a birds eye view. The architecture was crystalline mixed with Roman/Greek esque pillars. I saw it inside the crystal, he saw it around us. Beautiful he kept saying, try to push it larger.

After some time passed, my energy increasing with the strength of the shield. He told me that there were shadow entities trying to peer in from just beyond the shield. Slender men he described them. Tall, they'd stretch taller and taller to peer in. He knew they couldn't get in, nor see us clearly. They would slink down and are circling us he would say amused.

I broke concentration to take a peak out into the backyard. A tall shadow went zipping across the back deck, very quickly, went about 50 ft and dissapears through the back wall of the garage. Things inside the garage actuallycrashed loud enough to wake his two dogs. They ran growling at the garage door. Barked a few times. then rushed in to see check on us, Hair on their backs raised high.

He looked to me with eyes of amazement.

I went back into shield gaze.

Best to not think too much I've learned.

I must have held the shield up for another two hours, effortlessly really. My pleasure. My friend and I enjoyed the bliss. The clear mind, the NOW. I love it so, and get tastes of it not nearly enough. I Long for it as I get dragged back down. Sometimes pondering on if I made mistakes. If I'd ever get there again.

In it, I know diffrent. Someday I'll be fully 5d. We all will.

I had to use the restroom, so told friend I was breaking concentration.

As I spoke, I moved from my statue state.

3 aura green fairies flew off my head. Like little tiny butterflies dissapearing off into the room.

Purple, gold, pink pixel dust trailed behind them. I asked him if he saw, he slowly nodded and eyes wide told me at that moment I had huge whisps of green aura flowing under each eye. Like wings on my cheek bones. Said I was a wizard! Lol, I laughed. I wish it to be true someday I thought.

My friend wanted to go have a smoke in the garage.

I thought it not the wisest plan, But, I try to remind myself I'm not dead yet for some damn reason!

As we were getting up, and don't ask me why, but I pointed the tip of the crystal tower at the candle flame. The candle flame, It was incased in glass.

We both watched in amazment as the flame seemed to be getting sliced by some sort of energy flowing like a laser beam through the crystal point.

It was turning the flame red and then blue and even green! Very pronounced slicing through the candle flame. Making the candle flicker hard! Almost extinguished the flame at times. Amazing! Boggled our minds!

We forgot about everything else, heading out to smoke, we laughed while trying with the English words that seem to ever fail me, as to what we just saw.

Naturally it's gotten easier to press into our ever expanding box of beliefs. But somedays.. Wow!

Making it now into the garage, my friend points to a dark corner.

He says "it's there."

I look and sure enough the shadows, they are moving, dripping black darkness.

Poor attempt at hiding I thought.

It's no fear or lose big in these games I remind myself. So I bow my head briefly to it. My friend says hello to it. And we smoke.

It was sitting there, so I lit a Nag champa incense that was half burned.

I clutched a black tourmaline in my pocket.

The cigarette seemed to be taking to long. I felt the urge to get back to the comfort of the candle room.

I walked back towards the door to inside, then thought it bad form to leave my friend mid smoke. As I turned back around.

My friend seemed dazed. I asked him calmly to follow me inside. Though, by the look in his eyes, I knew He wasn't the friend I walked out here with.

I asked him again calmly, "lets head inside Dan, feel the safety of the crystals again."

"It's cozy in there, no?"

He's staring off now, then he says in a weird voice.

"Hold on, I'm just getting acquainted with this body. It feels realllly niccce. *laughs creepily*

but not really creepy, he felt gentle to me. He seemed sincere. Idk how to explain it. He looked like he was trying to figure out how to operate the body for the first time. He was impressed with it. He wanted to stay in the garage.

So I toyed with him on the light switch. Little bursts of light and periods of darkness while telling him to follow my voice to safety. He was laughing enjoying the light show. He listened to me finally. He Put the incense out and followed me back to the fireplace room. I had him sit close to me. I pulled back out the tower and went back into the shield gaze. It's notable that The shield went up so powerfully this time I could actually see it clear as day. Refracting the candle light . prism the light into colors. Immediately I was relieved, and he snapped out of it.

I didn't tell him what happened in the garage.

I held the shield until mornings light. When the beautiful sunshine came at last it felt like I could rest..

I've kept a close eye on my friend. He seems fine. He said he's felt the best since our interesting night.

Interesting night indeed.

#witchcraft #wicca #wiccan #witch #pagan wicca #pagan #vampires #pagan beliefs #paganism #pagan witch #celtic wiccan #dreams

[andreaberklxy]

Did you hear that ( ANDREA BERKELY ) was called down to the principal’s office? No, not ( LAURA HARRIER ), stupid. I think it was because ( SHE ) ( HAD TO DROP OFF HER MEDICAL NOTES ). Crazy, right? I mean, ( SHE ) is pretty ( SWEET ) & ( FUNNY ), but also really ( NAIVE ) & ( QUIET ), and ( SHE ) is the ( BROADWAY BABY ) that I don’t associate with, so I doubt I’ll find out the real story. (SHE) is a part of the ( DRAMA CLUB ) though, so maybe I can ask someone else about it. (SHE) is ( SEVENTEEN ), right? Those are supposed to be the best years of your life. Too bad high school sucks. 

hello my name is paige and I have no self control and picked up yet another character, but I promise she's nicer than the other two 

andrea jane berkely was born and raised in new York city, the middle of three kids

when she was about two years old, andrea was having trouble walking, and after a seizure, she was brought to the ER and, eventually, diagnosed with cancer

medullablastoma is a type of brain cancer that develops at the base of the skull and eventually works it way to other parts of the brain, and can be very deadly in children

right away, andrea had surgery to remove what could be removed of the tumor and then was started on radiation and chemo 

when she was six years old, Andrea finally went into remission, and all was right with the world for the Berkely family

even with cancer, andrea was a fun and lively kid. she did her best to make light of her situation and still tried to be a normal kid, with the help of her older sister Naomi and younger sister faith

the three of them are thick as thieves, think Schuyler sisters (I was gonna say but better, but lbr here)

andrea’s parents make decent money. her mother is a district attorney in New York and her father is a broadway director (has worked on Hamilton and Anastasia)

this is where Andrea’s love for theater comes from, she loves to sing and act and do drama because she grew up on it

the Berkley's decided to send the girls to redwood because a friend of Andrea’s father was sending his kids there and with the success of hamilton and the eventual success of Anastasia, the family could afford it

their family wasn’t overly rich but definitely live comfortably, the girls pretty much get whatever they want within reason 

upon entering redwood at age 14, andrea felt very much in her sister Naomi’s shadow. being only a year apart, it was hard for andrea to kind of make her own way in high school, but found herself almost comfortable in the back at times?

just before the beginning of her sophomore year, however, Andrea’s cancer came back. it wasn’t as bad as before, but she once again had to start chemo and undergo surgery (all while still attending high school bc she didn’t want the cancer to define her)

as of sophomore year, andrea also became a pretty decent weed dealer on campus. it started as needing lots of weed to help her get through chemo (she’s got it medically), but as her chemo started to become less and less, she had too much weed, and began to sell it

now a junior, andrea is pretty much in remission, but she still like smokes a lot of weed to cope with everything

oh and she’s teddy’s cousin

personality

like I said, andrea is a bit of a wall flower. that comes from the fact that her sisters are super out there--naomi is super smart and involved, faith is amazing at volleyball like a star player--but once you get her to open up she's a real good time I promise

like I said, she's super into broadway and super knowledgable, but loves all kinds of music

she's a super caring person, like she genuinely cares about everyone she meets and wants to help people

andrea wants to be one of those super outgoing and daring people (especially bc uk cancer) but she's scared, scared of rejection and failure and just like not being good enough

but she’s honest when you speak to her--if anyone’s ever watched ER, she’s kinda like carol Hathaway like that

idk ill add to her personality later

wanted plots

I SUCK AT THESE OMG

ok so like I mentioned, a friend of her dad sends his kids here, so maybe that? she's from New York but her dad grew up in California so it could be anyone tbh

maybe someone she has a crush on

friends, obviously we need those

maybe people who are friends with her sisters (Naomi’s a senior and faith’s a freshmen)

maybe an ex

IDK LETS JUST PLOT TOGETHER OK ???

#tw: cancer #ra.start

[blue-pincushion]

💀

send me a 💀 and i’ll post an angsty headcanon about my muse(accepting! )

[ man i’m running out of things to talk about bc i haven’t fully fleshed out all of my ‘sad’ headcanons about sonic but here’s this one. i’m probably just gonna talk about sonic’s relationships with other characters revolving around certain events so lets talk about shads for now. if i get another skull i’ll probably talk about elise ‘cause i’ve got some headcanons there

i talked about the ending of sa1, now onto the ending of sa2. ya know, the one where shadow presumed to die at the end there.

i don’t know what sega’s doing but ya know what? i think sonic was devastated. he was right there with shadow. he watched him burn up in earth’s atmosphere or at least that’s what sonic thinks he saw.

could you imagine that? this mysterious hedgehog who kinda looks like you but not really who you know nothing about, was at one point trying to obliterate the planet and tried to kill you, but then changes at the end and aids you in saving the planet but ends up dying in the end?? what a rush man. and like…imagine for the first time ever meeting someone who can actually match you in stride in terms of power and strength?? sonic probably never met another hedgehog who could go super before. 

i think it probably was crushing to of made that connection, and think something like “hey! for once there’s someone like me who’s helping me! i’m not entirely alone here!” but then poof that person is gone. god, and sonic probably subconsciously blamed himself, even though his mom instructed him at a young age to never blame himself for the tragedies you can’t control. he likely only had enough rings to hold his super form long enough to get back on the space station but wished he could of tried to grab shadow or something. anything!

needless to say, the next few months following up shadow’s “death” really tore sonic up inside. on one hand this guy was a bad guy at first, but then he just straight up becomes a good guy and helps sonic but then dies???? like cmon man you can’t just do that to him.

either way, sonic was ecstatic to find out shadow was alive. idk about you but that cutscene in sonic heroes totally went differently in my headcanons. ]

#anon #asks #{ ooc. } 🌀 #{ headcanons. } i just only have a steadfast heart of gold! 🌀 #{ angst. } i know that’s kinda sad but… 🌀 #{ shadow. } i found you faker! 🌀 #// dgkjksg conversations i've had tonight might of influenced this one but oh well

[noelicoan-blog]

Ch.2

Once Percy arrived at the hunters' camp, the girls rushed towards Artemis, asking for where she had gone, not even noticing Percy, who was clinging onto Artemis's foot, effectively avoiding being crushed. Finally, a fierce looking girl who wore a tiara noticed Percy and immediately stripped him off of Artemis.

"Heyy!! Let me go!!'' Percy yelled as the girl held him at the neck, with his legs dangling in the air.

"Who is this milady? You of all people should know not to bring a boy to our hunt!''

"Calm down Zoë, and you will not speak to my son this way.''

"Son!!!'' The girls screamed.

"You are a maiden goddess!! You dare lose your sanity towards a man!!''

"LISTEN TO ME ZOË!!''

The camp silenced immediately, and because of the sudden change, Percy burst out laughing. The girls glared at him feeling no sympathy for the young boy.

"My fellow sisters, I'm still a maiden. This is Perseus Jackson, my adopted son. His mother was killed by a hellhound, and he destroyed it without my help, his mothers' last wish was for all of the gods who have sworn virginity or do not have sons who appreciate them, to adopt him as our child. Sally Jackson was a wonderful woman who had always interested me, I heard her prayer and decided to come. Hera and Hestia have blessed him along with me. If you try and kill him or hurt him, I may be able to forgive you but Hera and Hestia will not so be careful.''

The hunters still looked at him in disgust but they didn't have venom in their eyes.

There was a flash of golden light and a guy with golden hair and a Colgate smile appeared. The girls groaned. The god was fuming.

"Artemis!! How dare you break your oath! And why does the child not have similar features to yours? Demigods tend to have similar appearances to their godly parent than their mortal one. EXPLAIN YOURSELF! And a haiku for this heartbreaking day...

Small sister broke an  oath, The amazing brother is sad I am very cool

There! Brilliant I'll add this to Apollo's best haiku's ever top 10. Now where was I... oh yes, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!''

"Okay chill, LITTLE Brother. So a mortal clear-sighted woman whom I had always been interested in, had a child with gods know who. She married a man named Gabe Ugliano soon after but just earlier today, Percy and Sally were attacked by a hellhound. She died, wishing for all gods who have either no children or had children but they were horrible to them, to adopt him. I knew how kind Sally was so I accepted. I gave my blessing along with Hera and Hestia, and now he is our adopted son.''

"Wait, Sally meaning Sally Jackson? But that's... Poseidon's lover...'' he said the last part really quietly.

"WHAT!!'' It was Artemis's turn to yell. She knew that he was powerful but not that powerful.

"Well, if Artemis gave him her blessing, then I deserve to give him mine, and he shall be my son as well.'' Artemis was shocked at first but the feeling changed into gratitude because she knew how stubborn he could be sometimes.

"I, Apollo God of the son, music, archery, poems and healing swear on the river Styx to take care and protect Perseus Jackson, my son.'' With that, he shot Percy with a ray of gold. He had a tattoo of a sun on his wrist. He had yellow parts in his pupils. "You can now sing beautifully and know how to heal people perfectly.'' Percy fell unconscious with the overwhelming power, and Artemis held him close to her heart.

The hunters were going to have to deal with an overprotective goddess for a while.

After a week, Percy was starting to warm up to the hunt. He trained and sparred with the hunters every day, and after dinner, he will have archery lessons with either Apollo or Artemis. He was now at the same level as a teenage girl who's had years of practice. His parents knew that he will be at the same level as Zoë and Phoebe in no time. Hera, Hestia and Apollo visited nearly every day, wanting to see their new son grow to be a respectful and modest, powerful young man.

One day, the four gods/parents were not the only gods there. Two beings looked at Percy from the shadows. Percy shot an arrow at where he thought he heard sound from.

After the gods had blessed him, he realised that he had more powers than his parents actually mentioned. He could see in the dark, hear a butterflies' wing beat, run with inhumane speed, speak French, Italian, German, Spanish, Greek, Latin and Japanese. He could also shapeshift into his parent's sacred animal. A Cuckoo, a Stag, a Wolf and a Phoenix (A/N idk, I just made it up...) he could control fire, make food pop out, shoot an arrow perfectly from 300 meters away, speak to animals, sing and also control water and make earthquakes.

He shot an arrow at the shadows and a god who looked really tired and pale, with a goddess equally pale but with spring flowers in her caramelly hair came tumbling out of the shadows. They quickly fixed their stance and stared at the five-year-old boy. He had sea green eyes with swirls of gold, yellow and silver, rimmed with red. With jet black hair. He had a lot of muscle compared to boys even older than him.

"Hello, you must be Hades and Persephone. Who shall I thank for this wonderful visit.''

"Wonderful? I'm Hades! You're supposed to fear me!! And how did you know!''

"Well, I'm not that scared since I'm the adoptive son of 3 Olympian gods and one of their sisters, so... and I guessed you were Hades because you came out of the shadows. And you Persephone because you are his wife, and you wear flowers from your domain, Spring in your hair.''

"Hades, can we adopt him too? I mean, we don't have any children between us, and besides, not many people know what I am the goddess of.'' Persephone asked Hades with her best puppy dog eyes.

"Ugh fine! fine! I Hades, god of the Underworld and it's riches, and king of the dead, swear on the river Styx to take care and protect Perseus Jackson, my son.'' He blasted Percy with black energy, and he now had darker eyes and had a skull tattoo on his back. He could now shadow travel, summon bones and jewels, and create cracks in the earth.

"I Persephone, goddess of the season of Spring, Queen of the Underworld, swear on the river Styx to take care and protect Perseus Jackson, my son.'' He had a hint of green in his eyes, he had a tattoo of a spring flower, a daisy just beneath his skull one. He could now summon wind and fly, and also control his powers and mask his now god-like aura.

He passed out again and drifted off calmly into the realms of Morpheus.

End.

[dickie-gayson]

Me and the Devil

Jason Todd was tortured and killed by The Joker and Dick Grayson had disappeared; murdered by the Court of Owls.

But everyone knows a Robin Redbreast in a cage puts all of Heaven in a rage. And even dead birds can fly again when the Gods demand it.

So, when the Talon catches wind of a new crime lord gunning for the Bats, he goes to investigate. After all, birds of a feather flock together and nobody clips a Robin's wings and lives to laugh about.

Characters: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd, Talon!Dick Grayson

Warning: Violence

Pairing: None

Genre: Supernatural? Crime? Horror? idk lmao

Words: 3k+

Other Parts: --

Also: I take prompts/requests. Can be found on FF here and Ao3 here

Notes: Mori Shej is 100000% still being worked on, I promise! I'm halfway done with the next chapter, this has just been in my head. ngl this is a self-indulgent fic. There is basically zero canon-compliancy here. Just consider it a total AU. I've been wanting a fic where Talon!Dick and AK!Jason meet.

"If you could only see the beast you've made of me I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground"

In the belltower of the abandoned Saint Louise de Marillac Cathedral in Old Gotham perched an unholy, subhuman creature wearing the face of a hero. It was truly a nightmare to behold with it's garish blackened veins against lifeless chalky skin. The luminescent yellow eyes that lit up the shadows only added to the grotesque imagery. That it took the church as its temporary home was a travesty of the most profane form. The Talon had been quite handsome once upon a time and so good at heart. That was years ago, before The Court of Owls plucked Nightwing from the rooftops and brought him to their home in the sewers. The horrors that occurred behind those granite and lime walls were unimaginable. They twisted Dick, made him into a cold, cruel monster and they suffered dearly for it.

It was their fault, really. What did they expect, taking a highly trained hero and corrupting him down to the core through torture? Loyalty? No, Dick Grayson was far too stubborn and spiteful to bow his head to his captors. He could play the game though. He could play it with the best of them. For years he pretended to be their subservient little pet; their lethal weapon of mass destruction. When the time was right and they grew comfortable with the horror they created, he struck them down. It had been pure chaos. Only the other Talons posed a threat to him, and hardly so. Before he was given the serum, the Talons had been a challenge, but he could still hold his own. Now that he had their very same abilities? It was laughable how he tore through them. The utter fear in the Parliament members' eyes when they finally realized what Hell they unleashed on themselves was oh so delicious. Each and every one of them was hunted down and executed without exception. They paid for what they'd done in blood.

The last thing Talon remembered before the Court got to him was his frantic search for his missing little brother. Upon his escape and after the systematic capture and execution of the Court, he took to hunting his old family out of curiosity. Dick needed to know why he'd been left to the torture the Parliament put him through; why he was abandoned in the sewers of Gotham to become the monster he was now. What had been so important that nobody rescued him?

It hadn't been hard to get into the Cave and find what he needed. The memorial cases displaying his Nightwing and the Robin suits would have left an odd feeling in his chest, but emotions had all but been stripped from him. Now he was only hollow and so very, very cold inside. It was in his temporary 'roost' that he watched that video. The brutal torture and death of Jason Todd at the hands of The Joker played out on the dimmed screen of his tablet. The piercing 'bang' of the final gunshot may as well have been the sound of the last nail in the coffin for the clown. Talon knew exactly who was next on his list. Nobody clipped a Robin's wings and lived to laugh about.

The whispers of The Arkham Knight reached him in his hunt for the Joker. Word spread through the underground of a newcomer armed to the teeth with a getup like Batman and gunning for the Batfamily. It was more than enough to pique his interest. Curiosity was always a strong point with Dick and that was something no amount of torture could take from him. So, he waylaid his hunt for a brief period to figure out who was encroaching on his territory. After all, if anyone was going to do some bat-hunting, it was Talon.

That's where the stalking began. He dogged the armored man's every step. From his hideout near the Bowery district to the base of operations in an abandoned shipping facility between Otisburg and Burnley. He could go nowhere without Talon shadowing him. The man had damn good instincts. From the way he looked around, often in the direction of Talon, indicated that he could sense he was being followed. It was almost amusing how paranoid the man became. Cameras were set up all over the place, state-of-the-art security systems were installed, and extra guards were positioned. Not that it stopped the highly trained assassin from slipping through it all.

The new gang seemed to be laying low. If Talon had to guess, it was to avoid unwanted attention of the vigilante sort. His constant watching led him to learn the man was indeed planning a big move against the hero. Talon grew bolder in his movements as his curiosity rose. Soon, he was searching through the office and even rifling through the masked man's various hideouts. That was when he learned that it was not some new crimelord in the making, but rather his 'deceased' brother, Jason Todd, beneath that helmet. He wanted to rip the mask off and see for himself that the dead bird wasn't quite so dead. Talon grew nearly obsessive with his stalking. He felt a sort of kinship with the hero-turned-criminal. Both had been snatched from the Bat, both had been tortured, both had been presumed dead (though it was a little truer in Dick's case), and both had been forgotten by their so-called 'family'. All they were anymore were empty suits in display cases and cautionary tales of what happens when one flies too far from the nest.

Perhaps he grew a bit possessive of his brother and killed those that conspired against The Arkham Knight. Perhaps he grew a bit obsessive and watched the man at nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment. Why shouldn't he be? That was his brother, his successor. It was his responsibility to make sure Jason suffered no longer. He failed his brother once already and he'd make damn sure he didn't fail again.

For weeks now, The Arkham Knight had the eerie feeling of being watched. At first, he searched but found no one. Then, he thought it might be his rampant paranoia growing worse. After all, the time to attack Batman was growing near and it was setting his nerves on edge. However, he wasn't entirely convinced it was all in his head. So he decided to ramp up security discreetly. He had extra eyes around the facility, hidden cameras in every nook and cranny, security systems to rival the Cave's. Still, nothing came of it. That would have put his mind at ease, but the feeling only increased. It even followed him to his hideout. In an act of desperation to escape the eyes, he dropped everything and picked out a new hideout. Jason made sure to take obscure routes to throw off any stalkers upon entering and exiting his new place.

The feeling was gone, but only for a short period of maybe two days, before it resumed. It made the man want to tear his hair out. He didn't want to admit the rising fear he felt, but it was absolutely undeniable. The nightmares only worsened from there. There was a constant thickness in his throat and a buzzing beneath his skin. Jason felt on the edge of panic at almost every point. It was a good thing he had full-body armor to cover his discomfort from the world. Sometimes when the anxiety got to be too much and the walls felt like they were closing in, he would lock himself in his office or his room and try to calm himself down through meditative techniques. The fear was all the worse because he had no idea who was following him so closely. The possibilities nearly petrified him.

That fact brought the anger he was oh so familiar with. The heat of rage was almost comforting in these times. He could handle anger. Hell, it was one of his driving forces at this point, but fear? He had too much of that at this point. He was sick to death of being scared of painted freaks and crowbars. More than once he caught himself screaming at nothing to come out already. Jason was so on edge. He just wanted them to stop. But no one ever came forward and he felt slightly silly for shouting into the shadows. He just couldn't help it.

Once, he thought he saw glowing yellow eyes watching him in the hallway of his hideout. Jason immediately went on the offensive and tried to catch the stalker. However, when he got closer, the corridor was empty. He searched top to bottom, every last corner and hiding spot, but he was alone. An acrid taste had coated his tongue and he was afraid he really was losing his mind. Jason thought he escaped the madness of the Joker, but it seemed he was wrong. It only followed him home. He nearly vomited at the realization. It crushed him on a soul-deep level and left him trembling in despair.

Jason had screamed and screamed and beat his fists into the walls as if they were responsible for his state. There was a pounding in his head that wouldn't subside. Laughter shrieked in his skull, so real he couldn't help the tears that burned his eyes. His fists nearly broke from the force and abuse. That night, he didn't sleep a wink. The next night he abandoned that destroyed hideout. Oh, how he wanted to blow the building sky high as a catharsis, but he couldn't. It'd draw the wrong attention to him too soon.

Unknown to him, those luminous eyes were very real and watched his breakdown with rapture. Nightwing would have wanted to comfort the distraught man. But Talon was only interested in seeing the man come undone. The intense reaction was so interesting. The sheer volume of Jason's emotions was almost addictive to watch. Dick felt so incredibly empty inside, like his heart had been carved straight out. To see the fire of Jason's spirit left him hungering. He craved that heat; wanted to tear his brother's chest open, consume him whole, and fill the abyss left in place of his own lost soul. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so cold and hollow. If Dick had even the barest trace of his old self left in him, he'd be utterly horrified and downright sickened at the thoughts running back and forth through his mind. That man was long since dead.

Tonight, The Arkham Knight was running a deal between his own gang and the Falcone on a shipment of weapons. Talon slipped through the security as if it didn't exist and perched in the dark of the rafters. This deal was going to get very interesting. Carmine had no intention of playing fair with the newcomers. He wanted to 'show them their place'. It was going to get bloody, and that's why he sent a lieutenant in his place. Well, Talon was going to make sure 'The Roman' got his message loud and clear. No one was allowed to mess with what was his.

Jason had that feeling of being watched again. He tried to ignore it as he conducted the deal, but that was growing increasingly difficult. It was as if someone were trying to pick him apart through sight alone. Like a mantra, he reminded himself that it wasn't real. It was all in his head. That is, until smoke started forming around his business partners. It was a familiar sort of smoke screen, like that of a pellet he used to carry as Robin. He started to internally panic, thinking the Bat had found him out already. It was almost instinctive to draw his gun and hold it at the ready.

The frantic cocking of the others' guns had him yelling out for everyone to stand down in an effort to prevent friendly fire. His helmet allowed him to see thermal imaging through the thick cloud. It wasn't Batman that dropped into the smoke, however. The figure was far too sleek in build to be Bruce and moved like liquid. At first, he thought it was Nightwing, back from wherever he disappeared to. The fluid way he flipped around screamed of the hero. But then Jason noticed the knives. Bodies dropped like flies around the unknown intruder. Screams filled the air and before he could get a shot off, the group sent by Falcone were dead. All except one.

As the smoke cleared, he got a good look of the assassin. In Jason's opinion, the owl mask was fucking stupid looking, but the rest of the outfit screamed 'professional killer'. He had lethal looking clawed gauntlets with what looked like throwing knives poking up like feathers and a bandolier of more throwing knives strapped to his chest. There were even more knives on his belt and God knows where else. Jason knew those claws could rend flesh because he saw the man take out a few throats with what seemed like casual swipes.

The last of the guest entourage was held by force before the man. The way the assassin had him kneeling was very close to that of the execution position. One of his many sharp blades was pressed snugly against the mobster's throat in such a way that even a wrong flinch could prove fatal. Those hideous goggles were staring directly at Jason but the knife-happy killer made no move to end the man. Jason had his gun trained expertly on the other's head. After a brief staredown, Jason spoke up with anger.

"You have one chance to give me a good reason not to put a bullet through that fuck-ugly mask of yours."

What he got in response was a slow, almost avian-like tilt of the head. Truthfully, it was downright creepy and made him want to pull the trigger. Before he could, though, the man spoke. Jason had to listen closely as the mask distorted his quiet voice.

"Confess."

He was about to respond with a resounding 'what the fuck' when he realized the assassin wasn't talking to him, but to the man in his grasp.

"What the hell do you mean?! Carmine's gonna hear 'bout this!"

The masked killer leaned down slowly until he was nearly brushing against his captive's face. Talon knew the man was lying. They had all been in on the plan. He had already taken out the reinforcements on the way in.

"Confess."

The way his voice dropped, frigid and soft, was frightening on a primal level. The mobster's shaking was visible even to Jason. The sentiment of 'what the fuck' still applied pretty heavily to the situation at hand. It seemed that was all it took to break the man. He cried out with a voice pitched high in fear.

"Alright! Carmine was plannin' on clippin' some of ya 'n musclin' in on the rest! Just lemme go! I won't say nothin' to the boss, I swear!"

Jason's blood boiled at the scheme. He knew doing business with the Falcone was tricky at best, especially since they were new on the scene, but this? Oh, that Sicilian fuck was going to pay. He was brought out of his angered planning when his apparent ally spoke up.

"Omerta, Jimmy. Omerta."

At the word, the man struggled briefly before stopping once the blade began cutting into his neck. He was all but crying at this point. Jason would say he felt for him, but he was a little too pissed to sympathize with the little shit. 'Jimmy' broke the code of secrecy and was fucked no matter which way he looked. It was tempting to just put a bullet through his head right now, but Jason decided to wait and see what the assassin was planning on doing with the man. Then he'd cap this waste of space and ship his body back to Carmine. 'The Roman Empire' was going to come crumbling down after this, he'd make sure of it.

Talon had no more use for the man. Any other knowledge was above the low-level thug's paygrade. Dick had heard far more in his time spying on the gang than this man was granted access to. All he needed was a solid confession, which he just got. His attention drifted back to The Arkham Knight. The gun pointing at him was of no concern to Talon. Bullets, at best, only slowed him down anymore.

"It's your head they came for, Knight. How would you sentence him?"

His voice, just as before, was all but a whisper. Jason was thankful for the enhanced audio of his helmet, otherwise, he'd have trouble hearing the lilted voice. The masked man was poised as still as a statue, ready to execute Jimmy if he gave the word. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about the unknown assassin at this point, though he was relatively certain that this was the one who was stalking him. That would most definitely be addressed later. For now, he had a rat to deal with.

He walked around the table, gun still pointed at the knife-wielding man in case he tried anything funny. When he stopped in front of the two, Jimmy was basically hyperventilating and blood dripped from the worsening wound on his neck. Jason noticed the knife had been shifted to prevent accidental death. This guy was really serious about letting Jason decide his fate, it seemed. It might be flattering if the guy weren't so damn creepy. He still wanted to at least stab him a few times for stalking him.

"I got it from here."

That earned him another one of those odd, bird-like head tilts. Then, the thug was pushed toward Jason in a sort of sacrificial manner. Before he could try to flee, Jason grabbed his collar and lifted him up to eye level.

"You're gonna deliver a message to your boss for me, Jimmy."

The man shook like a leaf as Jason spoke. The fear was evident in the way his voice raised and stuttered over his words.

"S-sure thing, Mr. Arkham Knight sir. Whatever ya s-say."

Jason was smirking beneath the helmet. The deference given to him for his position in the underground crime scene took a bit of getting used to. It wasn't the same sort of respect and fear that Robin had gotten him. Robin scared criminals because that meant prison and The Bat. The Arkham Knight scared criminals because he was either their boss or their rival, and rivalries usually ended in death. They feared for their freedom with Robin. They feared for their life with Knight.

"Never said you needed to be alive to deliver the message."

Before the man could make another peep, Jason threw him to the ground and shot him through the head. He made an indistinct motion for this whole mess to be cleaned up. There was a whole lot of work to be done now that the Falcones pissed him off. But first, there was a certain bird-themed stalker he needed to take care of. He turned around, ready to start grilling the masked man, but was surprised to see the facility assassin-less. The fact that he just got Batman-ed by some guy in an Owl mask made his eye twitch.

"Where the fuck did he go?!"

A few of his men pointed upward. Jason followed the line and immediately picked out the sunroof he could have sworn he reinforced, welded shut, and set up with alarms to prevent just this. He wasted no time in grappling up to the spot and inspecting the window. If the killer had slipped through here, he took the time to rearm the alarms, much to Jason's frustration. The fact that he even knew how to deal with his security system made the situation significantly worse. This was Bat-level tech. Who in the hell knew how deal with Bat-level tech? It set his teeth on edge.

The guy was probably expecting Jason to disarm the alarms and slip out to find him. A diversion tactic to buy him more time to escape. Well, Jason said 'fuck that'. He slammed it open and let his men deal with the blaring sirens now. There were more important things he had to deal with. Like catching a homicidal stalker that liked to cosplay as a bird. The head start he got from slipping out when Jason was distracted made this all the trickier. But he was trained by the Bat, and if there's one thing Jason can do right, it's hunt someone down.

His hunt, however, was cut short when he swung over to the neighboring building and was met with a pile of dead bodies. Jason nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. There was at least twelve people stacked together and bleeding out over the rooftop. He needed to take a brief moment to recompose himself before assessing the situation. He recognized a few faces vaguely as belonging to a few ranking members of the Falcone. They were strapped with some heavy weapons. Jason had a growing feeling he knew exactly what happened and who did it. That's when the white sheet of paper caught his attention.

Someone, he was betting that black-clad assassin, pinned a note to one of the bodies with a fucking knife. He reached over and ripped the note off. It was a bit difficult to read the somewhat messy lettering when he opened it due to the blood smeared all over the paper, but he managed. The note was short, sweet, and to the point.

You're welcome, Baby Bird.

That was it, but it made his blood run cold. Nobody knew who he was before The Arkham Knight. Jason was really, really hoping it was just a stupid nickname the guy chose to keep on with the bird-theme and not a reference to his time as Robin. It couldn't be. Jason Peter Todd, the second Robin, was legally dead. He wasn't in the system any longer. It was just a name picked by an obsessive freak with a bird fetish. That didn't stop his gut from churning at the thought. He radioed to his men, informing them of the mess that needed to dealt with up here.

Just across the way and perched on a billboard sat the Talon. His enhanced vision allowed him to watch Jason quite clearly, even from this distance and darkness.

"Don't worry Little Wing, nobody will hurt you again. I'll kill them all first."

He watched until The Arkham Knight returned to the compound, out of his sight. Then, Talon turned and started making his way toward the high-end area of Gotham. There was a certain crime lord that made his list tonight.

#My Writing #Fic #Me and the Devil Verse #Talon!Dick #Arkham Knight!Jason #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd