#Luke: *Sits up in his coffin* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mattsturniolosmuse · 10 months ago

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Luke Castellan x Reader

This is the promised smut from the poll I did. The others will be out soon.

Summary: You join Kronos' side after not being claimed for 4 years. You make friends with Luke, and one day, Kronos snaps at you, causing Luke to calm you down.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, friends to lovers

"Oh my god!" Someone whispered. You glared as a glowing red axe appeared above some demigod's head. Another demigod getting claimed, while you sat here, unclaimed for four years.

You run off to the Hermes cabin, quickly packing all of your stuff. You fit whatever you can in your checkered backpack. You ran out of Camp Half-Blood before anyone noticed.

>>>><<<<

You took home in an alley. You wanted to find Kronos; you knew he took in demigods who weren't claimed and wanted revenge on Olympus. You knew he would come to you. And sure enough, a week later, a Laistrygonian approached you, taking your hand and leading you away.

When you got to Kronos "lair" or whatever it was, you sighed a breath of relief. A young boy with dark curls approached you.

"Good to see more demigods joining us." He said, shaking your hand. You smile.

"I'm Luke. Luke Castellan." He says.

"I'm Y/N L/N." You respond, letting go of his hand. You had suddenly gotten flustered because you and Luke went to camp together 5 years ago, and you had had a crush on him.

"Y/N. I've been waiting for you." Spoke a voice. You hesitantly walked over to the golden coffin holding Kronos' remains.

"Yes, my Lord. I will remain a faithful servant. I want no more to do with the Gods or Olympus." You say, truthfully.

"Very well. Luke, bring her up." Kronos said. Luke grabbed your arm and led you to a room with several beds, some holding demigods.

"Pick which one you like." Luke said. You chose the farthest one, near the one window that was in the room.

"That was my old bed," Luke said gently. You nod.

"Where is your bed?" You ask.

"I've got my own room, being Kronos' assistant and all." He says, looking down. You nod.

"Well, want to go walk around?" Luke asks you.

"Sure. Why not?" You ask.

>>>><<<<

The day went by fast. Luke sure was something; he was charming, for one. He also had a great sense of humor, and knew how to talk to you. When you got back to your room, it was nearly eleven at night.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Luke says.

"Night." You say. Then Luke leans forward and gives you a very small, gently kiss on your lips before walking away. You blush, and very slowly walk back to your bed. Sleep came easily for you that night.

>>>><<<<

You woke to the sound of rustling. Many of the demigods were up and changing, getting ready for the day. You got up as well.

You waited your turn for the bathroom, and when you got in, you quickly changed into baggy black cargo pants, and a baggy red hoodie. You brushed your hair, and pulled it up into a messy bun.

You did your makeup back at your bed, with a hand held mirror. Once you were finally satisfied with your look, you headed downstairs, where multiple demigods were already sitting, feasting on pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, and many other things that made your mouth water.

"Y/N!" You heard someone call. Your head spun towards the call, and you see Luke waving, calling you over to him and his friends. Your stomach flips and you blush, remembering the night before.

"Hey, Luke." You say, sitting beside him.

"Hey, gorgeous." He says, kissing you on the cheek. You feel your face get hot again. You try to ignore his hand that is wrapped around your waist.

"Y/N." A voice booms. The chatter stops, and everyone stares at you as you stand up, approaching the golden coffin and kneeling before it.

"Y-yes, my Lord?" You respond shakily.

"I hear that Camp Half-Blood is preparing to save Olympus." He says.

Isn't that what they do? You think to yourself.

"Yes, my Lord. They have been for months now." You say.

Pause.

"M-my Lord?" You say, standing.

"SIT!" Kronos booms, and you kneel once again.

"What have they been planning?" He says, calmer.

"Well, t-they know that you have a large army. We overpower them 20-1. They have been slowly taking in demigods-"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT DEMIGODS! I WILL SWIPE THEM AWAY AS IF THEY ARE A PIECE OF GRASS! You know what, we aren't getting anywhere. Get out of my sight." He finished.

As tears leak out of your eyes, you run out of the dining hall.

>>>><<<<

Knock, knock.

You open the door, and Luke is standing outside. He pulls you into a hug, rubbing the small of your back.

"Let's go somewhere more private." He says quietly, taking your hand and leading you someplace else.

"This is my room." He says, opening a large door. It wasn't much different from the room with many beds, although he had his own bathroom, a hot tub, a pool table, and a mini fridge.

He sits down on his bed, leading you beside him.

"The first week is always hard. He's just testing whether or not you're worthy of being led by him." Luke said gently. You nod.

As Luke looks at you, with your mascara dripping down your cheeks, his member twitches. He has an image of mascara dripping down your face as he fucks your mouth.

"L-luke?" You ask as he groans.

"N-nothing." He says, taking your hand, rubbing it gently.

"I like you, Y/N." He whispers, barely audible. You smile, kissing him. You tangle your hand in his dark curls, as his hands grip your waist, pushing you down onto his bed.

His tongue forces itself into your mouth, and you moan at the contact. Luke's hand moves under your hoodie, caressing your stomach gently. He unclasps your bra and pulls it off along with your hoodie, pulling away from you. He moans loudly as your chest becomes exposed and smashes his lips back onto yours. His hands play with your nipples, squeezing your breasts occasionally. He reaches into his pants and pumps himself to your whimpers and moans.

He sits up, and when you see him pulling his pants off you do the same with yours.

"M'gonna make you feel good." Luke whispers, helping you pull off your panties. He kisses your clit gently, causing you to shudder. He loved the way the smallest gestures made you so flustered.

"Luke..." You moan, drawing out the 'u' in his name. He chuckles and lays his tongue flat down, flicking it back and forth.

"Holy shit!" You moan, arching your back and balling the bed sheets in your fists. His tongue worked faster, and it was impossible to hold in your moans. You were positive that Kronos and everyone else could hear you.

Your moans were making Luke harder by the second. He rutted his cock into the bed to get more friction, moaning into your pussy. His lips left your clit with a pop sound, and his face was coated in your juices. He wiped it off with the sheets of the bed and kissed you again before harshly pushing into you. He gave you no time to adjust, his hips pistoning into yours at an alarming rate. Tears pour down your face as you dig your nails into Luke's back.

Luke brings your knees to your chest, and you are practically folded over as he fucks you into the mattress. You were a moaning mess.

"Fuck. So tight f'me." Luke moaned, his hand squeezing your neck slightly. You gargle, and Luke removes his hand, quietly apologizing.

You clench around him, your high was coming soon.

"God! D-do that again." Luke moans, burying his face in your neck, sucking hickeys into the soft skin. You clench around him again.

"I'm gonna cum, Luke." You moan.

"M-me too." He says.

"Such a good girl." Luke coos, getting sloppy with his thrusts.

"Gonna fill you up. You can have my babies. You would like that, huh? We'll leave Kronos." Luke moans, and a few moments later, his load shoots into you. He thrusts a couple more times, until you cum. He pulls out, and admires your beaten pussy; leaking his cum, a dark shade of pink.

"Fuck." You say, trying to catch your breath.

Luke collapses beside you and pulls you close to him. You fall asleep just like that.

#luke castellan #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan smut #smut

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corroded-hellfire · 6 months ago

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Prompt Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 997

Rating: G

Pairing: None (this is pre-Reader x Eddie)

CW: None

Summary: Part of my As You Wish series! When Eddie has no one to watch his sons, he brings them to Corroded Coffin rehearsal

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

“I’m sorry, man.”

Eddie shoots his friends an apologetic look as they wait inside Gareth’s open garage. He knows the guys love his sons almost as much as he does, but Eddie’s never had to bring them to band practice before.

A maelstrom of emotions churned through Eddie when he’d punched Gareth’s number into the phone and asked if he could bring the boys with him this afternoon. Anger at Brittany for flaking once again when the plan was for her to hang with the kids at home. Embarrassment that he has to make yet another excuse for her. Desperation that he couldn’t find a backup plan. Luckily, they were good kids who could be kept occupied with books and crayons.

Six-year-old Ryan slips out of the car while his father unbuckles his little brother from his booster seat.

“Hi!” Ryan waves a hand in a wide arc over his head.

“Hey, Ry.” Jeff grins. “What’re you up to today, little man?”

“Watched Bear in the Big Blue House while Daddy chased Luke around.” Ryan walks forward into the garage, completely oblivious to the smirks and smiles on the men’s faces.

“Why was Luke running around so much?” Gareth asks.

The boy with the honey brown hair strolls past the awaiting instruments and plops down on the tattered couch in the corner. Ryan bounces on it a few times, the springs squeaking, and wrinkles his nose in distaste at the skunk-like smell that’s now woven into the fabric.

“Luke got mad and jumped out of the bath when Daddy said he can’t have a pet raccoon.”

The guys snicker, Jeff trying to hide it behind a cough. Frank rubs his nose to cover a smile.

“Yeah, that was my morning.” Eddie lets out a defeated sigh. Luke stands by his side, beaming up at the men with his gap-toothed smile.

“Hello!” Luke bends at the waist, giving an approximation of a bow. “Daddy said I gotta color nice and quiet so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

With that, the four-year-old climbs up on the couch next to his brother.

Eddie gives his friends a pleading look before crouching down in front of his boys.

“Ryan, here’s your book. Luke, your coloring books. And some crayons. You guys just sit here and chill while we rehearse, okay?”

Both boys bob their heads up and down, which satisfies Eddie. He presses a kiss to the top of each of their heads before grabbing his guitar out of the car trunk.

“Here we go,” Eddie says as he strolls back into the open garage.

The band practices for a good fifteen minutes before the first interruption of the afternoon. Just as they finish up the chorus in their cover of Peace Sells, Luke stands in front of Eddie, waving his hands back and forth erratically.

Eddie’s guitar licks end with an anticlimactic sour note before being silenced.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at his son.

“I gotta go potty,” Luke says.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “You know where the bathroom is in Uncle Gareth’s house.”

“But…” Luke’s eyes travel around the edges of the garage, skimming over the various tools and holiday decorations piled up before looking back at his dad’s face, his blue eyes widening, “I need help.”

“No problem,” Eddie says, keeping his voice as calm as he can. He’s mildly irked, but not at Luke, so he doesn’t want the boy to think he’s upset with him. He’s four, he can’t help when he has to use the bathroom.

“Alright, you, back on the couch—hey, what’s going on?”

Eddie steps back into the garage, but it’s not the same laidback scene it was when he left. Gareth and Frank are both kneeling in front of an amp, bickering as they fight for space to look at something between them.

Jeff is with Ryan on the couch, the little boy’s shoulders slumped.

“What happened?” Eddie asks, hand instantly going to rub Ryan’s back.

Tear tracks are visible on Ryan’s face, but Eddie can’t find any trace of new tears building up in his eyes, so he takes that as a good sign.

“I-I got up ‘cause some of Luke’s crayons started rolling away and I tripped.” Ryan points over to where Gareth and Frank are shoving cables at one another. “I pulled wires out of that thing on accident. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, come on,” Jeff says softly. “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken, the wires just need to be put back in. It’s not your fault Thing One and Thing Two don’t know which wire goes where.”

A small smile cracks through on Ryan’s face.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Ryan affirms with a sniffle and a nod.

Jeff and Eddie push the other two out of the way and swiftly fix the wires.

A glance at his watch tells Eddie that they’ve got time to practice a few more songs at least. He looks back over at his boys as he slings his guitar strap over his head, frowning when he sees them griping at each other.

“Boys,” Eddie snaps. Both turn to him with wide eyes. Guilt weighs on Eddie’s shoulders as he realizes his tone was too harsh. “What song do you think we should practice next?”

“The albino one,” Luke says, making Eddie chuckle.

“That’s Smells Like Teen Spirit, bud. And that’s grunge, not metal.”

Luke groans, looking back down at his coloring book spread open in his lap before his head shoots up to stare at Eddie with eager eyes.

“Daddy!”

“What? Got another song?”

“No,” Luke says, waving a dismissive hand with a maroon crayon perched between his thumb and forefinger. “But I’m hungry. Can I have Dino nuggies?”

Eddie drops his head forward and rests his hands on his hips. He can hear his bandmates laughing as he sighs exasperatedly. Taking another deep breath, Eddie lifts his head up.

“I need a babysitter.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWS #CCF

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blacclotusss · 7 months ago

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Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape

Starting off strong, I want to discuss the argument between Louis and Armand. This, in my opinion, is where everything fell apart. It's just them going back and forth hitting each other in the jugular and it made me want to rip my hair out just hearing it. I, personally, have always hated when things like that get thrown up in arguments so that's my own personal bias. Just hearing Louis throw back the CSA in Armand's face and Armand throwing Paul's suicide, Grace leaving him, and his history with Lestat back up brought me to tears almost. It really sucks that these two felt that they had to resort to these things, but that's the tragedy of it all.

But, for some reason, I think Armand was more hurt that Louis called him dull and boring. My belief is that it hit harder because being boring and dull to Louis means he goes out to look for more exciting things and people, leaving Armand home all night. He doesn't want to lose Louis and the first ounce of real love that he's experienced, so he was taken aback by that. Louis walking out into the sun wasn't much of a surprise to me, but I think him doing it at that moment was. I would have expected a suicide attempt back in Paris, or even in Dubai, but not in San Francisco. I do understand now that the story has unfolded.

I think Louis has just had enough of it all, talking about it with Daniel who kind of brushed it off in his intoxicated state and his argument with Armand only fuels that. He wants to be with Claudia, she's the one that he says is calling him, and if dying is how he's going to get to meet her again, then so be it. Now, the whole situation with Armand leaving Louis on that bed to suffer while he begs for relief definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Louis no longer has Claudia to nurse him back to health, as she did when he was dropped, so he has no choice but to rely on Armand and that sucks. Armand is in here torturing Daniel while he leaves Louis to holler and yell for him, that's so messed up. Even going as far as to contact Lestat and relay messages from him to Louis, and omitting some things. The psychological abuse at play here is crazy to think about.

I also want to talk about the power balance that has been discussed as well. Yes, Louis is able to express himself a bit more and in a different way in his relationship with Armand. They have an understanding of each other and what the other needs and their roles and positions switch based on what one needs at that moment. The whole Arun/Maitre thing is really working in Armand's favor more, in my personal opinion. He knows just how to push enough to get Louis to fall in line with that. You can see that towards the end when Armand calls Louis maitre after all he said. He's all of a sudden asking Louis to lead after everything that has happened, after Louis had to beg, and Louis will happily oblige in order to keep the peace between them. I wonder in what other instances has this happened before. We see Louis trying to keep Armand from falling off of the deep end while he, himself, is the one sitting in the coffin burned and charred begging for blood. So curious as to how this will all unfold in the coming episodes, I know Dubai will be a madhouse just as much as Paris.

Aside from the analysis of relationships and arguments, this episode was amazing. The styling choices in both the filming and wardrobe were superb. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was Jacob and Assad's first episode they shot. It had to be funny to go from this to all the sweet lovey dovey stuff in the earlier episodes. I want to hear them talk about this more. Also, the SFX makeup was amazing! Much love to everyone involved with that! And it was nice to finally see Luke! He played that part so well. This and episode two are my absolute favorites so far. I wonder what's to come next in Dubai...

#louis de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #daniel molloy #the vampire louis #amc interview with the vampire #amciwtv #interview with the vampire #vampterview #iwtv #iwtv meta #my ramblings #and thoughts

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hold-him-down · 1 year ago

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Belleview Chapter One: Welcome to Belleview

Notes: ~11 years after the beginning of The Fighter, this is not a Luke/Leo story but is in-universe.

TW: Institutionalized slavery, nonsexual nudity, starvation mention, human euthanasia mention, degrading language, all the things.

✥ ✥ ✥

From the outside, it is a beautiful campus. Elegant in its simplicity, with three brick buildings forming a crescent at the mouth of a long, rose-bush lined drive that intersects wrought iron gates.

Today, police swarm it, more for the optics than anything else. They’re not here to enact change, or to start building moral credit, but they are here, and so he smiles, shakes hands, introduces himself.

He opens the double-paned glass door, which sits just in front of a set of reinforced steel bars, and he’s immediately met with the silence of a reception area from which all of its workforce has been escorted out.

Almost all.

“Lincoln Prescott?” says a singular man, in his mid-twenties on his best day, peeking around the corner. He’s nervous, skittish even. Fidgeting palms run down his sweater and he smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s happy, welcoming, comfortable, warm.

Lincoln returns the gesture and nods. He doesn’t extend his hand. Instead, he turns over the key he’s just been handed, and he reads the man’s name-tag.

Jared Fisher, Handler. Level Two.

Jared smiles sheepishly and takes off the name-badge. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear it. I guess… I guess it’s not really needed anymore.” He holds it out to Lincoln, who stares at it for several seconds, before he sets it on the counter behind him.

“Uh,” Jared says, cutting through the silence of the massive waiting area. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m sure, that you’re not– I get it, I mean. I know I’m the enemy here.”

Lincoln narrows his eyes, shaking his head once.

“They said if I– Uhh, they said they’ll take it into c– consideration, I guess. When the trials start. When… whatever is going to happen, happens.” He swallows, and Lincoln feels something that is related to sympathy, but not quite it. He lets that feeling fizzle quickly. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone," Jared says quietly.

There’s silence again. Lincoln lets it settle over him, watching the ex-handler’s fidgeting intensify, before he says, “Oh. You’re waiting for me to speak.”

Jared shrinks.

When the final nail in the coffin of support for the trade and consumption of government-sanctioned slavery had been hammered in, there wasn’t the type of frenzy that anyone expected. That morning, people, by and large, woke up, had their coffee, showered. They caught their trains to work, they read their news and they watched, closely, but there wasn’t an uproar. They stole glances at their phones and monitors for updates, for news, for what happens next.

Truth be told, it had been heading this way for a while. Within the last ten years, individual states had begun passing legislation that, in hindsight, paved the path for widespread challenges to the system, led by a few congresspeople who finally woke the fuck up. Things turned violent early, with protests, rallies, boycotts, demonstrations… everything imaginable.

Videos of workers being tortured, followed by videos of workers recounting their own stories, began making national headlines. Consumers of workers’ labor fought hard to sway public opinion back to the positive outcomes the system had brought the country, but with each passing week, with each new video of a worker strapped to a table being violated in unimaginable ways, it was a losing battle.

As local legislation was passed, certain states became a kind of safe-haven for runaways. And eventually, things started going federal.

The most significant bill, the one that fully outlawed the use of worker labor and reinstated the ‘freedom’ of current workers, was going to be codified that morning. It wasn’t unexpected, at that point, but still, the infrastructure, the plan, was… well, it had holes, to say the least.

The workers who were deemed functional, by some arbitrary metric, would be relocated to massive government-owned housing units. They would share rooms by the half dozen, be fed, given medical attention, and slowly be reintegrated into society. No one knew exactly how that would work, but it had been successful in the states that had already outlawed worker labor (with some notable exceptions), so the plan, half-assed as it was, was set into motion.

Former safehouses were repurposed as halfway houses for those who were less “independent.”

Individual volunteers were gathered who would open their homes to those who were unable to care for themselves but didn't pose any significant safety or medical risk.

In the days leading up to the vote for reinstatement of worker rights, when it was clear how things were going to go, people did go into a frenzy. Hospitals scrambled to hire, doctor’s offices scrambled to modify policy, the call for volunteers to offer shelter, food, medical assistance, jobs… it was madness.

But that morning, the morning the final nail landed, it was quiet.

Jared leads Lincoln down a narrow hallway, spouting off information as he does. The linoleum tiled floor is clean, but peels around the edges. The walls are white, chipped along the corners and where the doorframes meet the drywall. The ceiling is white, but there’s a yellow cast. The fluorescent lights that line the halls give it a sort of eerie post-apocalyptic vibe, and it’s fitting.

The building, Belleview, is eerily quiet. There’s no obvious screaming coming from within, so it’s already better than he expected.

Jared slaps his keycard against a box outside a set of double doors, and Lincoln takes a breath. The volunteers are gathering outside by now. His group of nurses, doctors, caretakers. They could be with him, but he wanted this run-through alone. To give him time to make sure the plan that he spent the last week finessing would work.

Jared stops at the first door, and pushes a button outside of it, bringing to life a screen. There’s a name on the top, and Lincoln glances through the information he’s shown. Jared presses another button, and the door unlocks audibly, the light above it turning from red to green.

Inside is a man, with nothing else. Brown hair, blue eyes. He doesn’t look at them.

“This one can get aggressive.” Jared’s voice is matter of fact, as he points out the information on the tablet. “They come here to… you know, to be of whatever use they can be until they…” he whispers, and Lincoln offers him the briefest of glances. He regrets it immediately. “Expire.”

Lincoln turns his attention back to the screen, and so Jared continues. “We have 21, uh… residents, right now. I think that’s what we’re supposed to call them now. They were… well, you know. They were workers, but the rejects, I guess. They’re in… they’re in various states of um…”

Lincoln clears his throat tersely, throwing a warning glance to the ex-handler.

“Well, okay. I’m sure you’ve been briefed, and if not, I’m sure you will be.” He begins walking again, letting the last door close without another glance, as he approaches the next. “We tried to take as good of care of them as we could. They’re fed and watered and we tried to... whenever we could, some of us tried to offer them some comfort.”

He stops at the door. “Obviously, they’re here for a reason, so they don’t tend to be super… uh, super cooperative or trainable or anything. They’re usually just… they’re here for a short time, and then–” He stops himself this time, without the warning glance.

“We call this guy Tank, but I think his real name is Tyler, if that means anything to you.”

Lincoln nods. “Does it say here? Anywhere on here? What his name is?”

Jared fiddles with the screen for several seconds before it comes to a demographic page. It lists 20 inhabitants, and presumably, their room numbers.

“Look at that,” Jared says then, interrupting Lincoln’s review. “Looks like I was right, it is Tyler. That was a guess.”

Lincoln takes a breath, because there’s no benefit to causing a scene here. If Jared was offered leniency, then he was a handler who, at least on the surface, wasn’t as bad as he could have been.

“Anyway, this one used to be aggressive, too." The door opens and Jared gestures to the man who lays on his stomach, bandages across his back. "But now? Nothing going on in there.” He points to his own temples, and lets the door swing shut. He switches to the video feed, where Tyler stares into the camera.

Jared continues along to the next room, and Lincoln follows behind him, his thoughts racing.

Lincoln Prescott was already in his car on his way to the site he’d been assigned to oversee before they even finalized things in the White House. It’s a temporary solution to a very serious problem, they said. It would take ten to fifteen days to get those who were in no shape to get to a halfway house the medical attention they needed and find suitable placements for them.

In the meantime, they were safest where they were. He was needed to help organize the volunteers and medical personnel, and to act as a sort of director of the temporary housing facility.

So he drove. He knew it would be bad, maybe the worst of the worst. He had been briefed. He was given a stack of files of the inhabitants that he would be overseeing. He looked it over that night, and every night since then. He spent the last six days memorizing every face, every backstory.

It was a site to house those that the government had deemed unable to be placed, for one reason or another. Too violent, too unpredictable, too difficult to be trained. From what Lincoln could gather, these workers served any and all purposes. Their primary reason for existence was, it seemed, to trial training techniques, to trial drugs, to motivate the workers who were difficult, to show that there were worse fates.

They ranged in ages from 19-26. None survived longer.

“Doctor Prescott?” Jared asks, from somewhere far away. Lincoln looks up from the tablet, and Jared is already down the hall at the next door. Lincoln takes a breath, biding his time. They’ve gone through eighteen of the men, with Jared's special commentary on each of them. Twice, Jared had promised that he wasn't a bad person, and that the culture had been one thing, but now it was another, and he was ready to pivot.

Only once had Lincoln felt himself snap, and had to excuse himself before serious harm was done.

Some of the men were given the accommodation of a bed, some of them were given clothing, some had rotten food in their cells, some had broken bones, open wounds. Some slept fitfully, and some slept so completely still that Lincoln thought that they might not be alive at all. Jared had assured him, in those moments, that they probably were.

Jared opens the door to the twentieth room, with a small, “We call this one ‘Felix.’ I think you’ll like him,” as he does. The man, short blonde hair and dark brown eyes and at least forty pounds less than his frame should support, blinks himself awake. He sits in the corner of the tiny room and stares at Lincoln. He tries to smile, but the tremors that rock his body make it hard to buy. He doesn't wear any clothes, and has one of the DLS-issued shock collars affixed to his neck. His ribs shake when he breathes too deep, but again, he tries to smile, even as he backs further into the corner.

Jared is speaking to him, but Lincoln doesn’t clock exactly what’s being said. The man looks so afraid, but still, he lifts his fingers in a sort of wave, shaking as he does. Lincoln waves back, offering him a small smile in return.

“We’re not allowed to euthanize them,” Jared is saying.

“What?”

“When they hit the end, I mean. We have to give them enough food, give them enough water. If they choose to stop eating or drinking or… whatever, that’s on them. We can’t assist them. Once they’re too far gone, sometimes we’ll just stop trying to get them to eat, and let them go.”

He thought, by now, that he’d heard it all. His eyes widen. “Is that where we’re at with him?”

Jared shrugs. “He’s sick. The director said he’s gonna go any day now, but it’s better if we don’t directly cause that.”

Lincoln doesn’t attempt to keep the hatred out of his eyes.

“He knows,” Jared says. “They all do. Once we stop pulling them for testing, it’s only a matter of time. He wants you to pull him, though,” he continues. “He wants to know it’s not his time yet. He wants to show you he can still be of use. He doesn’t really speak anymore, but he tries to be sweet, so we will keep him in rotation.”

“Stop talking,” Lincoln says then, his fist in a tight ball but, remarkably, not around the man’s throat. Jared’s mouth snaps shut.

“Show me the last one, and then you’re finished here.”

As they retreat away from the man’s cell, the door closes behind them, and Lincoln watches the hope leave his eyes.

They make quick work of the last door, and the weasley man leads Lincoln back through the main wing, mumbling about how there were several wings they didn’t tour, but he at least got to see all the residents, and how if he has questions, he is more than happy to take a call, day or night, and how…

✥ ✥ ✥

The volunteers stand in a haphazard group, each with a color coded name-badge to at least give Lincoln a starting point as to their role. He begins by directing the doctors and nurses to rooms, providing instructions on how to access the rooms, providing instructions on how to access the medical files, providing whatever information he can.

They’re working on finding placements for each of these boys, he tells them. But they all require intensive, specific treatment. As they find placements, they’ll be housed, and once they’ve placed the last boy, the volunteers will be reassigned.

As the last of the volunteers heads inside to get their own bearings, Lincoln takes a step back, regarding the innocuous building.

“I guess that’s that,” Jared says from behind him, taking a step forward and extending his hand out once more. Lincoln looks down at it, shoving his hands into his pockets, as Jared mumbles, “Welcome to Belleview.”

UNTITLED SYSTEM COLLAPSE STORY TAGLIST: @pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings

#belleview #institutionalized slavery #this is going somewhere #its going places #maybe not to the pulitzer prize people #but places #nonsexual nudity #torture mention #government stuff #it's a set up ok #they'll be sweet soft guys eventually

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1-800-iluvhockey · 2 years ago

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it's never over - l.hughes

----

2:22 seconds remained on the clock, the third period is headed to the end. heart is racing, nerves and stakes are too high. every michigan fan is on the edge of their seat; they know that their team can do this, y/n knows that luke can do it. holding onto her hand tightly, ellen watches with y/n as luke skates down the ice trying everything he can to block shots.

"cmon, I know you got it in you. michigan magic." y/n whispers, ellen's hand grips tighter when she sees the shot go in, the shot that luke barely missed. now it's 4-2, and only about 1:45 left. a commercial break pauses the game but doesn't break the tension on the ice.

"ellen---" y/n says in almost a whisper as they see luke skate back to the bench, trashcan in hand, head covered. "it's okay, he is doing it because he is nervous, probably didn't drink enough water -- that boy." ellen reassures y/n as she watches her boyfriend struggle through this third period.

"yeah, it is just hard watching it. nothing that I can do but sit here and ---" y/n's voice wavers and ellen brings her closer.

"it's okay honey, you're here and this is what matters. family matters, every hockey player wants their family in the stands to make them proud. luke needs you, he needs us here for him. you sitting here is doing more than enough for him. look." ellen calmed y/n as she got her attention back to the ice.

her boyfriend skates to the faceoff, looking up in the crowd for a split moment to try and find her. she waves, and he nods -- a short and sweet moment, just enough to know that she is there for him and that he knows she is right there when she needs him.

the music signals that the break is ending and the puck is to be in play, and all the emotions are back again.

----

luke knows how this goes, as he has been here before in this exact game spot, the year before. he knows the heartbreak, the struggle, the grief he is going to endure in the next few minutes when he hears that buzzer.

but two things were different this year; it was the end but it was truly the beginning --- because it is never over. y/n's sweet voice plays in his head as he gets ready to face off, he thinks of her singing this song in his car, praising (screaming obnoxiously to the classic rock) of her favorite jeff buckley song --- lover, you should've come over. he imagines her voice saying "it's never over" in his head, as he has done the whole game to keep him going.

in reality, after that buzzer hits -- his time at umich is over; but his hockey career is truly beginning. so yes, the grief and sadness he is probably going to endure after this whistle blows will be one of the hardest things of his life --- but it is different; he has his y/n to lean on.

----

the whistle blows and the remaining seconds of the period play out; ports is out of the goal, and michigan does everything they can to stop quinnipiac from scoring an empty netter. a player steals the puck back which causes luke to go after him, eddy gets in net ready to play makeshift goalie. y/n's breath hitches as she knows that the quinnipiac player will score as luke hooks him and eddy has an opening.

boom.

5-2 quinnipiac, nail in the metaphorical hockey coffin. a sigh comes from jim as he sees luke talking with the ref, defeated. luke got a penalty for hooking, meaning quinnipiac was on a powerplay for the rest of the game. he looked defeated while entering the penalty box, which caused jim, ellen & y/n to look at each other, knowing how their boy was going to really feel.

"I made a bet with jack that he wouldn't break his stick this year -- let's hope I win." y/n kindheartedly joked as jim laughed. "that penalty might have set him off so I wouldn't be surprised if jack won the bet, y/n."

"I have faith that he won't beat himself up too badly this year, he has a pretty amazing girl to lean on and now a new career start. y/n?" ellen questions at the end, causing y/n to get confused. "yes?"

"you're ready for jersey right?" ellen asked as y/n looks at her like she has grown 3 heads.

"ellen, I am not going with him --- no way." she says questionably. her and luke talked about it but it was never a plan.

"y/n, you two have known each other for years, I know that you guys finally started dating last year -- but I know luke wants you in jersey." ellen tells her as jim agrees.

----

the buzzer goes off which causes the conversation to be dropped as everyone rises out of their seats. half of the arena is full of cheerful quinnipiac and minnesota fans -- while the others are in denial about their seasons ending.

making their way to the locker room, y/n gets a glimpse of dylan, mackie and luke on the ice. defeat, just a look of sadness and shock on their faces. dylan looks and sees y/n in the tunnel, and just shakes his head. y/n reciprocates it but in a more "you did your best" type of head nod.

y/n and some of the families watched from the tunnel as the boys shook hands with each other. the boys led themselves back to the locker room, feeling the pain of the national title slip from their fingers once again. one of the last players off of michigan's side of the ice was indeed, a deflated luke hughes.

----

walking with his head down, helmet in hand --- luke couldn't even see who was waiting for him as he headed to the locker room. he just went to her, he could smell her perfume from a mile away. she opened her arms to her as he buried his neck into her shoulder. he didn't care who saw, he never did. he just cried, letting out the defeat into y/n's shoulder.

"it's never over baby, you still got a whole career left. I am so proud of you." y/n whispered into his neck as he nodded. his arms held her tighter as the shock factor went away. he was done with college hockey.

college hockey brought him some of his best friends/teammates and gave him the courage to finally ask y/n out on a date. without college hockey, he wouldn't be who he was today, and that's why his emotions are even higher than he would have thought.

after a few minutes, he pulled away and got a good look at his girl. his beautiful girlfriend was wearing his favorite maize jersey, looking like a total angel in this moment. she looked like she cried a few minutes ago, giving her the extra glowy effect. he was too lucky to have the best family, girlfriend, and career he could have.

grabbing her hands, he put them on his shoulders. "y/n, will you come with me? to new jersey?" he asked her softly as he watched as her eyes pooled with tears. she turns to look behind her, to find his parents looking at her, ellen nods and then she turns to him.

"always, wherever you go --- I want to come with you. I love you." she says, kissing him softly.

"good, I was hoping you didn't say no." luke says as they walk over to his parents, hand in hand.

he wasn't okay, but he knew that the grief was temporary.

michigan would always be there for him. it is home, well, a home. home was really where y/n was. all he wanted was to be with her and play hockey, but those michigan memories will be with him; those were the forever type of memories. as the university of michigan, yost arena, hockey house, and all of those friends, teammates, and memories were going to last forever. he also couldn't forget about those michigan summers, those summers on the lake with his friends and family are going to be something he can't wait for in the off-season.

forever type of memories.

they would never go away; even if it was over.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #umich imagines #frozen four #1-800-iluvhockey fic #1-800-iluvhockey

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starlightshadowsworld · 1 year ago

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soooo- do you have more like- dark! Thalia headcannons or just Thalia headcannons in gen?

Not that I can think off the top of my head, so here's some of my general Thalia headcannons.

While on the run, Thalia would take Annabeth to the library. She'd sit on guard beside her and sometimes read her stories.

Thalia forgot what Jason looked like but when she saw him again, she just knew.

Her hair was blonde as a baby but got darker as she older.

Thalia has always fought like her life depended on it.

She watched her mum bury a small empty coffin for Jason.

Thalia has been to her mum grave twice. One when she found out she was gone, the second after Jason died.

She started using her last name after Jason died because she felt it was her last tie to him.

Thalia likes to draw, she has a notebook full of doodles and lyrics she'd make up.

She wanted to be a singer.

Thalia as a young kid thought being Zeus's daughter was the coolest thing ever.

That changed quickly.

Thalia cares about Luke but his betrayal hurt her so much, she can't even think of the past without a sense of bitterness and rage.

She first began to channel through her powers through rage alone.

And though she doesn't do that anymore, its harder to keep a grip on her powers when she's mad because of how natural it feels to let go.

Thalia gave herself purple streaks with Annabeth and Lukes help for her 14th birthday. It didn't come out right at all but she didn't care.

She never compared Jason to Annabeth but she'd often wonder if he'd have turned out like her.

The first time Thalia used her powers was when a monster took Luke by suprise.

Thalia was in a diner once and went up to some older punks and shyly told them she thought they looked cool.

They were kind, shared some food with her because while Thalia said she was just waiting for her mum they didn't completely believe her.

They taught her about their style. Why they dress the way they do and about being punk.

One gave her a patch that she has sewed onto her leather jacket years later.

#I also hc her as being Pakistani but that's a whole other thing on its own #thalia grace #percy jackon and the olympians #the burning maze spoilers

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reeeooohhheehee · 6 months ago

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Back From the Dead

00: Humans Don’t Live THAT Long

Loosing someone that you care about is one of the hardest things in life. It hurts to see when the coffin is laid down, or when the cremations begins. Sitting there, knowing you’ll never be able to see them again. Knowing you’ll never be able to talk to them again. Then you have to go on with life.

It’s been felt at the grandest scale everyday, it’s not going to stop. Not everyone��s immortal, unless your Solomon, a demon, or an angel. And it hurts to keep remembering. Just know that even when I’m gone, I’ll still be there by your side.

Those were Mc’s last words.

It was hard to move on. The brothers cared for them deeply. They loved them so much. The emotional turmoil was too much to bare. The longing for their presence, the longing to be held in their arms again.

It was all impossible to accomplish again. Their precious little lamb, growing old with them. Their precious little lamb who helped mend family issues. Their precious little lamb who fell in love with each and every one. Their little lamb who practically became family.

It’s as if a part of their souls has been ripped out from their body directly. Why did this have to happen? How did it even happen? They sat there, unmoving from their spots as Mc’s body was carried inside the cremation room.

It hurts to see the one you love one last time, doesn’t it? It was like Lilith all over again. And again. Don’t even get started with the royals. They’ve been there, too. At the back of the room, watching. They didn’t get to know Mc the way the brothers did but it hurts.

A trusted friend has been snatched away by death, too. The Purgatory boys stood still, feeling the pain and tension in the room. This was not something that could be reversed anymore. The damage was there, and it was permanent.

“Simeon..? Is this what it feels to lose someone?” asked the small angel, Luke. For a time, he thought Mc was a parent figure, it was harder for him. A child to lose someone hurts more, too. The salt in already open wounds, it was too much for everyone.

Everyone was lost in thought. Mammon sat at the very corner. Was it his fault? He couldn’t protect you? Maybe if he asked Solomon to do the same immortality potion to Mc, maybe this would’ve never happened. But this was fate versus him.

They knew it hurt, so one by one, they left. Mammon was left staring in thought at the cremation going on inside. He had his hands on his knees, his tears endlessly flowing out.

“I’ll love you until the end. That’s my promise on repeat, Mc.” Mammon said softly, standing up to leave. He had to move past.. even if it hurt to do so.

#obey me x gn ! mc #scenario #lucifer x gn ! mc #leviathan x gn ! mc #asmodeus x gn ! mc #belphagor x gn ! mc #diavolo x gn ! mc #simeon x gn ! mc #solomon x gn ! mc #obey me mc harem #sfw #angst

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m4gp13 · 1 year ago

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Day 3: Parallels / Fall

Platonic Lukethan (Luke & Ethan)

Word count - 2120

@them-awesome-rarepairs

Technically, Ethan knew he was only five or so feet from his old friend. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch him with very little effort. But his old friend was hardly even there anymore. Just a vessel for the stranger looming over them both. It looked like Luke, sure, but that’s where the similarities began and ended.

Kronos didn’t move the same way Luke did. Or ways. Any of them. Back at camp, Luke was an energetic teen comfortable in his element. From his long, swinging strides, to his short jogging burts spurred on by laughter to even the effortless way he tossed deadly weapons between his hands. Spritely, but relaxed. Ethan had followed him everywhere back then, charting his path right behind Luke, so he was intimately familiar with every minuscule hitch or sway. He was different after he left. Ethan only saw him a few times in the army, but part of him couldn’t help but feel as though his old friend had already been replaced with a new pilot for his body. He kept his hands to himself, kept his nervous tics bubbling under his skin and most importantly he kept his laughs trapped deep in his throat.

‘You look like a grouchy businessman,’ Ethan remembered telling him when they first reunited in the labyrinth, before the weight of the situation settled on their shoulders. Luke had smiled at him then and huffed out what might have been an attempt, or a rough approximation, of a laugh. He wasn’t laughing now.

Kronos’ presence had a deforming effect on Luke’s body. It was like an animal that had been taxidermied by someone who had never seen it alive. All the basic ingredients were there but mixed together all wrong. There was his close-cropped sandy blond hair that used to frame his face and the deep gouging scar that split it open. But while it used to sit and do little more than pull up the skin around it, it now served to twist and tug Luke’s features into the exaggerated sneers or gloomy frowns that Kronos seemed to favour. As a younger teen in camp Luke would always swing his arms around as he walked or else would let them rest with his hands in his pockets or with his thumbs hooked around his belt loops. Kronos arranged them differently; holding them poised to perfection in a clasp before him or acting out extensively designed gestures thrown under a guise of relaxed ease.

This version of Kronos and Luke was a creature native to the uncanny valley and couldn’t have belonged anywhere else. The fact that it used to be a form so natural, so familiar, was almost unimaginable at this stage. It was a habit Ethan had grown used to; always watching him (them?) out of the corner of his eye. As if there was something to look out for. A flash of blue among a sea of gold, maybe. Or perhaps a scythe swinging for his neck a second too late to catch. Even a glimmer of something recognisably human in there somewhere. He really wasn't sure.

It was an effort in vain. That’s what the Titans said and that’s what the logical part of his brain told him. But every time he came close to convincing himself of that fact, he always managed to ruin it for himself.

The elevator to Mt Olympus was like a shiny vertical coffin. The air was heavy and stagnant around Ethan and Kronos as they rode the long ride up to their destination. Whispers of music drifted from some unseen speaker and barely grazed their ears while the robotic rumbling of the elevator’s ascent drowned it out. Ethan and the Titan stood next to each other, with Ethan just a step ahead so he was closer to the doors, guarding it should the impossible happen. For Luke, he would have done so without question and without being asked. For Kronos, he felt like a kitten being stared down by a tiger. He kept his eye trained on the thin black line between the door, refusing to glance at his own distorted reflection, or the reflection of a reflection standing next to it. His mistake. It would have helped to have some warning before Kronos dropped his hand onto the back of Ethan’s neck and held his shoulder with an iron grip.

Ethan dug his nails into his palms hard enough to leave deep indents, redirecting the urge to flinch but he couldn’t stop the sick lurch of his stomach. “We’re almost there, Nakamura,” Kronos told him. His voice reverberated around the elevator and made all other noises sound like a murmur. Ethan’s eye flicked up to glance at the two golden pinpricks in the steel door and found them pointed directly at him. His fists trembled at his sides and Ethan was sure if he opened his hands, he would find blood speckled on his palms. The Titan leaned down close to him so his lips were next to his ear and asked, “Are you scared?”

A cold shiver snaked down his spine and sweat plastered his shirt to his skin. He made the mistake of not looking away instantly and the image reflected onto the doors distorted even further in his mind. When he looked at it, he didn’t see a monstrous Titan looming over him like a spider crawling over a fly caught in its web. He saw blue eyes, a hideous orange shirt and a splintered wooden shack instead of a metal box. He saw his Head Councillor leaning over his shoulder while he assessed himself in the mirror, ensuring he’d strapped his armour on correctly before his first game of Capture the Flag. Are you scared? Luke had asked so gently, all those years ago.

“No, my Lord.” His body trembled but his voice was smooth and even. He was a soldier, not some whimpering child. Even as he willed the flickering blue in his vision to give way to the gold he knew was really there.

A low chuckle rumbled like thunder from Kronos’ chest and he pulled away and drew himself up to his full height. Maybe it was Ethan’s imagination, but he always thought Kronos was taller than Luke. “Are you sure, lieutenant?”

You sure, kid?

Ethan suppressed a shudder. “Quite sure, my Lord.” For a second, he braced himself. As if Kronos of all people would give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder like Luke used to give on impulse. But Kronos wasn’t Luke. Kronos was probably the farthest thing from Luke the world had to offer. And yet so similar at the same time.

Luke liked to talk about that sometimes, when he was still Luke. Back when he was trying to convince Ethan to rip the bandaid off and join the army already. Kronos was just like them, he said. He had been the youngest of his Titan siblings, the insignificant and forgotten one. He felt cast aside by his primordial father and took matters into his own hands, just like them. He grabbed his destiny by the throat and cut out the oppressive dictator ruling his world, just like them. Their lives ran parallel to each other, destined to end up in the same place. So like Kronos built his own world anew, they would do the same. And, Ethan had to admit, the idea had been attractive to him. He fell for it, so to speak. But that wasn’t really how it worked.

Parallel lines were just lines running at the same angle, not necessarily in the same direction. It was like in biology, when he learned the structure of the double helix of DNA. His teacher had called the lines anti-parallel. They mirrored each other, but one ran up and the other went down. Ethan had thus decided that was a more accurate diagram of where Kronos and Luke, and by extension all the demigods in the army, stood in relation to the other. He just didn’t know who was going up and who was going down.

The ping of the elevator reaching its floor and the smooth metallic droning of the doors opening pulled him out of his thoughts. Before him was a pristine expanse of marble blocks, bronze gilding and blue skies. It should have been beautiful but something about it made Ethan’s already uneasy stomach lurch.

“On we go.” Kronos stepped out in front of him, crooking his fingers to motion for his lieutenant to follow. Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Ethan did as he was commanded. Looking up at the indomitable form of his Master, he could just see over his broad shoulder the familiar face that had been twisted into an unrecognisable stranger by the look of frenzied glee smouldering in his eyes. It was a veritable fire; one that made Ethan stumble over steps and skip beats in his heart. One way or another, this would be the end of the war. They’d known that during the months it took to plan the attack. But there was something to bare and naked about that fact when looking at Kronos now. The fire in his eyes would either be snuffed out and burn away with their efforts or it would grow into a raging inferno that would swallow Olympus whole, Luke included.

Ethan wasn’t even sure which of those options he preferred the idea of and while his chest seized at the thought, another sunken memory surfaced from the murky waters of his mind.

He used to hug Luke. The last time he’d done so was when they found him wandering in the labyrinth and he told them he was there to join their cause. Luke asked for a word with him, privately, and everyone else cleared off. The fire braziers in the small earthen alcove were the only lights they had and there was something about them that night. The stripping effect they had on Luke. Under their flickering orange glow, he was skeletal and vulnerable. All it took was some delicate poking and prodding on Ethan’s part for him to crack completely.

I’m scared, Ethan, he’d said as he leaned down to press his forehead into the crook of Ethan’s neck with his trembling hands clenched around his upper arms. There they stood; the perfect inverse to countless nights at Camp Half-Blood. Ethan hadn’t known what to do. His best friend and big brother by any definition had just told him his death warrant was all drawn up, and that all they needed was just one person to seal his fate. His guardian angel had fallen and landed at his feet. It was all he could do to hug him back, not even aware at the time that in a few days he would be the one driving nails into the golden coffin.

If Luke was still in there, in that knife cutting its way through Olympus, he was probably very scared indeed. Ethan couldn’t hug him now. It would probably just doom them both. At such a time of emotional desolation, Ethan almost chuckled. Percy thought he avoided the dual punishment that was sure to come from sparing him in the labyrinth arena. Now look at them both. Ethan’s survival had ripped a brother right out from under them both, a brother who wouldn’t last to the end of the day whether he failed or succeeded and Ethan couldn’t even return a favour and give him a gods damned hug about it.

Perhaps it was Ethan who was the lagging strand of the double helix, hurtling his way to the bottom. Perhaps it was both Ethan and Luke, dragging the other down with them. Either way, it was going to hurt when someone hit the ground.

A crash of rubble tumbling to the ground drew Ethan out of his own head and he looked up the path to see Kronos standing over the smouldering ruin of a statue. Ethan had fallen behind a bit so he jogged to catch up while Kronos’ maniacal laugh rang out through the floating city. Someone was going to fall today, whether it be Kronos, Luke, Ethan or some other schmuck. Every part of his being told him to flee and find out the results later, but Ethan had been running alongside Luke for years now, carving his own path to match his brother’s. He owed it to him at least to walk with him for this final stretch. Whether they rose, fell or never saw each other again, it was the last thing he could do for his old friend. They’d walk off this world together.

#pjo #percy jackson #pjorarepairs2023 #luke castellan #ethan nakamura #platonic

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marvelshifter111 · 2 months ago

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Luke 7 - retold version

The Faith of the Centurion

When Jesus had finished teaching, he went to Capernaum. A Roman centurion there had a servant whom he valued highly, but the servant was very sick and near death.

The centurion heard about Jesus and sent some Jewish elders to ask him to heal his servant. They came to Jesus and pleaded earnestly, saying, “This man deserves to have you do this because he loves our nation and even built our synagogue.”

So Jesus went with them. When he was near the house, the centurion sent friends to say, “Lord, don’t trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. That’s why I didn’t come to you personally. But say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell one to go, and he goes; another to come, and he comes. I tell my servant to do something, and he does it.”

When Jesus heard this, he was amazed. Turning to the crowd, he said, “I tell you, I haven’t found such great faith even in Israel!”

When the men returned to the house, they found the servant healed.

Jesus Raises a Widow’s Son

Soon afterward, Jesus went to the town of Nain, and a large crowd followed him. As he approached the town gate, a funeral procession was coming out. The dead man was the only son of a widow, and a large crowd from the town was with her.

When Jesus saw her, his heart went out to her, and he said, “Don’t cry.” Then he went up and touched the coffin, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!”

The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

The people were filled with awe and praised God, saying, “A great prophet has appeared among us!” and “God has come to help his people.” News about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding area.

John the Baptist’s Question

John the Baptist, who was in prison, sent two of his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

When the men came to Jesus, they said, “John the Baptist sent us to ask, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?’”

At that very moment, Jesus was healing many people of diseases, casting out evil spirits, and restoring sight to the blind. He replied, “Go back and tell John what you have seen and heard:

The blind receive sight,

The lame walk,

Those with leprosy are cleansed,

The deaf hear,

The dead are raised,

And the good news is proclaimed to the poor.

Blessed is anyone who does not stumble because of me.”

After John’s disciples left, Jesus spoke to the crowd about him: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind? No? Then what did you go to see—a man dressed in fine clothes? Those who wear expensive clothes and indulge in luxury live in palaces.

What then did you go to see? A prophet? Yes, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written:

‘I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’

I tell you, among those born of women, no one is greater than John. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.”

The people who heard this, including tax collectors, acknowledged that God’s way was right because they had been baptized by John. But the Pharisees and experts in the law rejected God’s purpose for themselves because they had not been baptized by him.

Jesus continued, “To what can I compare the people of this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplace, calling out to each other:

‘We played the pipe for you, and you didn’t dance; we sang a dirge, and you didn’t cry.’

For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by all her children.”

Jesus Is Anointed by a Sinful Woman

One of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him. Jesus went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table.

A woman in that town, who had lived a sinful life, learned that Jesus was eating there. She brought an alabaster jar of perfume and stood behind Jesus at his feet, weeping. She began to wet his feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them.

The Pharisee who invited Jesus thought to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know what kind of woman is touching him—that she is a sinner.”

Jesus said, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”

“Tell me, teacher,” he replied.

Jesus said, “Two people owed money to a certain lender. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither could repay him, so he forgave the debts of both. Now, which of them will love him more?”

Simon answered, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”

“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.

Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You didn’t give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t greet me with a kiss, but she has not stopped kissing my feet. You didn’t anoint my head with oil, but she has poured perfume on my feet.

Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”

Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

The other guests began to whisper among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”

Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

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lightvsdark18 · 2 years ago

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Unexpected Visit to The Devildom 2.2

Followed LovesOfLauryn and Lavi Alraune's playthrough.

"Yeah, I can see it."

"Hm, we got nothing to lose."

"You need him to sew clothing?"

"Ten outfits by tomorrow?!"

"Three? Who said I was joining?" She helps.

She's a light sleeper, she heard them.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Yeah, it sucked."

"No problem, Asmo." Sweet smile.

Luke's comment catches her off guard.

"Mammon, be nice."

"Asmo, calm down and relax."

She thinks Simeon is referring to her before asking her.

"Just show the results."

"Asmo, come on..." "Obviously."

Secretly laughs to herself and gets death glares from Lucifer.

"Go thank him now."

"I'm glad I could help."

"You can on the cheek, not on the lips."

"... You're acting different."

Looks over at the giggling two and narrows eyes. Then gets weirded out by Levi.

After Beel's explanation, she finds it funny as well.

"Levi, just tell us what you did."

"Stop looking at me like that. Use your words, Levi."

Pats his head.

"Yours, you started the game."

"Because you're the eldest?"

"Gees, be a little hopeful."

"I mean, he is the avatar of greed and he is greedy."

"Is there a curse or something to make him honest?"

"Who's your favorite beside me?"

"Dude, stop yelling."

"Mammon, he's not you."

"So you would rather tell Lucifer you like him repeatedly instead of telling us what your wish is?"

"I already knew that."

"What?! What ya do mean you knew?!"

"Mammon, you make it pretty obvious that you're in to me."

"What? Say that again?"

She looks at him a bit sad because she knows she has to break his heart. "Mammon, I love you as a friend."

"Before you start planning a murder on your brother, tell us your wish."

"Why not ask Lucifer to do it?"

"You're now your own on this, Levi. I have no interest in making Lucifer kneel in front of Satan."

"First off, I'm not a part of this plan. Second, Satan wants you to kneel before him."

Smiling and chuckling in the background. (Just strangle him, Satan.)

(Simeon, how date you.) (Poor Luke.)

"What do you want, Asmo?"

"No, not really." "Have to charm me in a different way."

"Hmm, I am curious what you guys looked like in the past."

Surprise at him bringing out the photo album. "You have photos?"

Enjoys looking at the baby pictures. (I think it's an aesthetic attraction.)

Shrugs. "I don't know."

"Was hungry?" "Then where's the problem?" "Should I stand outside while you two make it?"

Is sitting in the common room while the two deal with the drink.

"Not sure."

"Yeah, if it means I can suffocate you in my chest. Sorry, for the dark humor."

"Belphie, don't push it. I'm willing to help Levi and grant your wish."

(Satan, Levi, you're troublemakers.) (Ha)

Tries to make up a lullaby.

"Tell me what your wish is, Levi."

"Levi, just say it." "Are you serious? Why were you embarrassed by a simple request?" "Yeah, I'll game with you."

"Stop being so loud. I'm heading to my room."

Stares wide eyed at Lucifer, and is a bit impressed.

Lucifer, what the hell?

"And he threw me against a coffin in the underground tomb and almost killed me."

Calling Diavolo baby. Chuckles.

"Beel..."

Throws hands over her ears.

"Help them, please."

She told Solomon his cooking sucks on day one because she's not a coward like everyone else.

"No, please explain." "Not the candle part."

"I'm too worried about Beel to stay here."

Glares at Satan with the look of you can't be serious and you have two seconds to say sike. "You better be joking because it's not funny, Satan."

"Sorry, Diamond."

"Well shit."

"Not happening."

"Don't underestimate me."

"But I'm right here. Don't look behind you."

Milady's girlfriend's voice is heard. She freezes in place, then reminds herself it's fake and continues.

"Keep your heads forward, guys."

"Why didn't someone hold Levi's head forward?"

Places hands under her armpits.

"What? It just looks like you have ink on your hand." Yeah, say that to the person who has glasses.

"Don't touch!"

"Meow."

"Yeah, but they're sometimes a headache."

"Like you." Solomon frowns.

"Thousand years? How old are you?"

"No promises."

"Stealing a book, Solomon?"

(The thought conversations is terrible in a good way.)

"You can really read people, Solomon."

Takes off shoe, freaks Mammon out.

"Resist the temptation."

Holds Beel's hand.

"Mammon! Don't be rude."

"Solomon! Why did you say that?" Grabs Beel's arm.

"Let's get this over."

"Satan, stop bullying your brother. Mammon, come on."

"Are you... okay? You look pale."

Picks up Satan to prevent him from pulling his "prank."

(How can you tell which candle is who's? Does it have the name of the person on the side of it?)

Doesn't say nothing, walks over, grabs her candle and makes the others freak out as she places a drop into Beel's.

Stumbles a bit while landing.

"Yeah, I like your old selves."

"What is it?" Hugs back. "I guess so."

"Give him some space! Beel, carry him up to his room." Beel obeys and picks up his brother. Milady turns to Asmo and Mammon. "What happened?"

"Could the reaper's cave cause this?"

Casts a spell.

"Acted sooner? You know what's going on?"

It's my fault..?

"Are you okay? You seem confused."

Her mind is swirling with thoughts of Lucifer forgetting everyone and her being at fault for the phenomenon.

(Well, there can be another one if you find another descendant of Lilith, slap the seven pacts on them and boom! You have another big problem.)

She's silent, dead silent as she listens to Diavolo's explanation.

"Severing the ring means severing the pacts between Katelynn and all of you as well."

"You guys would be free of me." (I literally said that after reading that)

Everyone, including her, freezes at what she said. She didn't mean to say that, it just came out.

"What do you mean "free of me"? What are you trying to say?!" Mammon questions, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Kate, do you think we feel trapped in a pact with you?" Asmo concernedly asks.

She's silent.

"... Katelynn, you will revert to the state you were when you first came to the Devildom. And the effect you've been having on the three worlds should dissipate as well. And Lucifer's memory might return as well. Solomon will be in charge of performing the ceremony to sever the ring."

"... Hey whoa. You mean you've already made up your mind to do this? Just like that?"

"There's simply no other way, Mammon." Mammon grows quiet and clenches his fists.

Diavolo walks up and stands in front of her. "I'm sorry, Katelynn." Then leans down to hug her. "I'm so, so sorry I couldn't come up with some other way to deal with this... some other solution."

She's motionless in his arms, blankly staring over his shoulder.

Pats Luke on the head. He opens his mouth to protest, but her sorrowful expression convinces him not to.

"You there? I have a name."

Looks at Asmo, flips hand and stares at him confused. (Lucy, you're talking about Solomon)

"Yeah, I understand..."

"He cares about his loved ones very much but tries to hide it."

"His passion about what he loves and is very talented."

"A loveable nerd and fellow cat lover like myself."

"He may seem full of himself, but he does care about others when they get close to him." Gives a "wtf" expression to Lucy's comment.

"A loveable guy who cares deeply about his family."

"... I'm not right person to ask about him." "I have my reasons."

"Someone I respect."

"A loveable guy who cares deeply about his family."

Places arm on his back. "It's going to be okay, Beel."

"Where are you?" "What's wrong?"

"Just move him if it's such an issue."

Doesn't take a picture, but does call it cute.

(Cuddle pile!)

"Mammon, do you really want to disappoint me?"

Smiles and pats Levi's head.

"Are you worried about Lucifer?" Smug face activate.

He reaches for her head but pauses and pats her shoulder instead.

"The what?"

"And does Lucifer get if he wins?" Bruh, I'm not an object.

"As long as I don't have to open my wallet when we hang out, then I guess I'm fine with it."

"Really?"

Pats his head. "I won't."

"Having fun?"

Hooks index finger with his. "... Is this how we usually hold hands?" -Lucifer

"Sometimes we went into the town together."

"Cheekier? Yes."

"It's okay. It can more fun for you."

"I'm not. It's a nice view."

"... It was about Lord Diavolo."

"... I want to know how you feel about me."

She looks down at the floor, nervousness and sadness filling her body. She told Asmo and Mammon how she sees them, telling Lucifer shouldn't be difficult. However, a part of her wants to tell him more than that, tell him what's weighting on her mind. Maybe it's because he's a different person right now and feels like she can be open with him, or maybe he's the person she knows she can depend on.

"... Can I tell you something that has been bothering me out? I know it's kinda cruel since you don't have your memories, but there's something I need to get off my chest."

"Of course, you can tell me anything." She takes a deep breath and looks at him in the eyes.

"I know you and your brothers are in love with me since my first year here. I have been keeping my distance and been trying to be careful with what I say or do to you guys because I, I only see you and them as friends, a second family even."

Her eyes slowly look down. "I didn't say anything back then because I was afraid you and them would want nothing to do with me if I rejected you. I don't want to lose you guys and I feel guilty for not feeling the same way you seven feel for me."

She wipes her eye. "I... we can talk more about this after you get your memories back."

"Good night."

(You walk in and just see a man in your room.)

"Is there any other way to solve this issue?"

"... And who would that be?"

"... It would be Lucifer himself." Panic, heart racing, standing stiff as a board.

Rips her hands away from him, upset.

"Well, one of us."

(Oh, it's the red text, you know he's threateningly serious.)

The room is buried in silence as she hides the dagger behind her leg, feeling suffocated by her panic and fear.

He slowly walks closer as he speaks while she backs away from him. She shakes her head with a weak "No." He reaches for the blade just for her to pull away. "No, we're not doing this."

"... This is the only way and I refuse to allow you to get hurt." He reaches for it again, seeming to fight her for the blade.

She yells "Stay!" just for him to resist the command. He gets his grip around her wrists and aim the dagger at himself. "You really aren't one to do as you're told, are you Kate? But you're too upset right now. You need to be calm and focused to fully restrain me, and you're not."

She stares up at him with such heartbreak as tears roll down her cheeks. Then a hand rests upon of theirs and pushes the dagger away. "Don't worry, there's no need for that."

She glances over to see Simeon. "You really are brave. I can't imagine how hard this has been for you. Now then, I have a little something here you should have..."

He takes her hand and slides a golden ring on her finger.

"Yes, I can hear you..."

"... Lucifer was about to stab himself, but... Simeon showed up before he could."

"... Because I care about him, and... I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

"I'm glad it's over. *Sighs* I need vacation after this... Thank you for showing up, Simeon."

"Help you with what?" "Sure."

"Still feeling uneasy, but beside that I'm okay."

Flashback to her waking up and having a panic attack: body tense, tears pouring out of her eyes, and having trouble breathing properly. When she calmed down enough to move, she hugged Lucifer tightly and quietly told him to never do something like that again. He just chuckled and hugged her back.

"Behave, you two."

"I'm not the better dancer, just warning you."

(Mr. Steal your girl) "Ow."

[We Need To Talk] and [I Don't Want To Be Alone]

"No comment." (Doesn't mean that in a bad way)

(Showed up in February and leaves in April, so their reactions make sense.)

Gets interrupted before she could answer Beel.

"Okay." Doesn't go to Diavolo after class and lies about him saying no which really isn't a lie.

Agrees with Solomon.

"Hmm... I probably should learn how to control my power, so yes."

"What did you get?"

Pulls Satan out of the pile. "You good?"

"You shouldn't have a messy room in the first place."

"Thank you." Pats him on the head, then chuckles and hugs him.

"What are you doing?"

"Why didn't you invite me to look at the clothes before putting them in boxes? Maybe I wanted new clothes."

"There's something I need to ask."

"Does it have to be something physical?"

Smiles at phone when Asmo speaks up. "I won't."

"What are doing you?"

"Give me something dear to you so I can summon you."

"Will I see it in the human world?" Takes a picture of the twin stars.

I wish for the brothers to be happy.

(Lucifer, stop being petty)

"Thank you, Levi. Oh, you probably heard but I need something you hold dear."

Smiles and hugs him.

"Hey!" Smacks his back to save him.

Gets her snacking on.

"Thank you." Wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Is that a grimm on the floor?"

Takes it with a smile. Then pats him on the head.

"Why do you have that?" (His office is horny jail.) "You good?"

"Give me something you hold dear."

"There's nothing I want you to do, just take care of yourself."

Turns and walks towards the door just for it to slam in front of her. "I'm not letting you escape that easily." Fuck.

[The Confession]

(Luke, you're 10, why are you walking in a land full of demons alone?)

"You can come visit when you get permission from Michael."

"Why?"

"I don't want to go too, but after what happened and not seeing the sun for awhile, I want to go back to my world."

"Adult stuff."

Smiles. "Could I have a hug, Luke?"

"I won't."

Nods.

She slowly gets tired and accidentally falls asleep at the party, then wakes up in a sack and gets confused at what are the brothers doing?!

Kidnapping is not your only option!? Starts struggling.

"Guys, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean? We're sneaking you out with us." -Mammon

"Guys, I love you, but I want to go-" then Cerberus shows up.

What? Lucifer, you can't be serious?! Then Satan grabs her hand and drags her with them.

Satan is still holding her hand. "I want to go home. I love you guys and I love spending time with all of you, but I want to go home to the human world."

Lucy repeats what she said to him. (Wholesome expression to immediately smug one).

(He said he loves me ;-;)

Walks up to the portal and waves to everyone. "See you later." And walk into the portal and returns home.

(The items they gave her is either in her phone, on her person or in the plastic container under her bed.)

After a month of returning home, Milady and her now ex-girlfriend agreed to just be friends because their relationship was never romantic and was looking for something good in the moment.

#obey me shall we date #milady

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alligatorjesie · 2 years ago

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What do you fuckin' Mean brav?

Did you, much like JJ and Terrio when making episode 9, just fucking forget the last two movies exist?

These movies have not one, but multiple instances of Rey and Ben being Very Intimate with one another so who the fuck knows maybe it's just this fat bowl I smoked but it seems like you have legitimately forgotten large portions of 2 whole ass movies that exists in this trilogy.

Rey and Ben share that saucy shirtless scene in which a very flustered Rey asks Ben to put something on but he just stands there like 'bro, this is my bedroom'.

She listened to and considered his perspective of that night with Luke because deep down even she smelt Luke's story has some bullshit in it.

Her and Ben sit quietly in a small fire lit hut and both of these intensely lonely people tell each other they're not alone anymore.

They then hold hands impossibly across the stars, see what we can only assume was the most intense force vision either of them ever experienced. Ben's killing Snoke and Rey beating up Luke and shipping herself to Ben happens 110% Because Of These Visions.

They're torn apart by Luke, who Rey then straight up fights her childhood folk hero To Defend Ben.

She then washes her hair and puts on some nice clothes and does her makeup to ship herself to Ben in what can I only describe as the most Disneyesque Sleeping Beauty ass looking coffin/escape pod where her and Ben AGAIN stand VERY CLOSE in that elevator talking about that very intimate force vision they had with each other.

Ben kills Snoke here not as a power grab but because he had such a powerful force vision involving Rey he was willing and ready to alter his entire alignment to accommodate her.

Rey grabs Ben's thigh as they fight, not against each other but WITH each other back to back for the next many minutes

After Throwing Her Own Weapon to Ben

Ben then PORPOSES TO REY

Listen to what he is saying here:

He's saying he's willing to go fully neutral here. He's willing to abandon the dark and the light. Whatever the fuck she wants, he's willing to do it. This isn't Ben committing to the dark side, this is Ben committing to ruling with Rey by his side, whatever that means To Rey, she gets to decide. But this isn't healthy. Ben is just going from one person who told him what to do to another person who he is expecting to tell him what to do.

And only then after a tearful realization that what Ben is offering is for her and not for himself and that he isn't ready to leave all this and she's unwilling to stay with him she regretfully has to tell him no.

She doesn't look glad she had to do this to him. She looks heart broken.

Even the last scene isn't either of these characters filled with malice.

Ben is regretful. A face we've seen before.

Rey is disappointed. A face we've seen before.

This isn't the hateful 'Go Fuck Yourself' scene everyone makes it out to be.

This is like...what? 10 overt instances of reylo in one movie alone so saying shit like 'the reylo came out of nowhere' is disingenuous at best or just flat out incorrect at worst.

Not to even mention the multiple instances of reylo in TFA also even I will admit at this point the infatuation is entirely from Ben's perspective because at this point Rey still hates his guts but Ben does a lot of dumb shit only a lovestruck moron would do and he does it many times with her exclusively.

Like bridal carrying Rey to his ship when he has a bunch of lackeys there to do it for him.

Then interrogate her so gently it's hardly a interrogation at all and she even bests him at the end of it he's doing such a bad job.

Or perhaps it's the nearly full fucking minute he gives her to consider when offering to teach her how to use the force at the end of the movie instead of yeeting her off the cliff like he had ample opportunity to do.

I counted by the way. Honest to fucking God this scene is

27 Full Fucking Seconds

from the end of his proposition to the time it takes her to react.

Listen, the relationship is right there and getting on the fan's dicks about your unobservant ass ain't on us.

This is like watching the prequels and not noticing the Anakin/Padame love plot then getting salty with the fans for noticing and enjoying it.

It's the whole point of the story being told here. Ben isn't a mindless murder. He's shown many times throughout the two more consistent movies to be filled with conflict and a inability to stay committed to the dark side.

Snoke notices it and calls him out on in multiple times in multiple movies.

Hux notices it.

Rey notices it.

Luke notices it.

Leia notices it.

Fuck me, Even Ben Himself Notices It.

He has a whole scene in the first movie where he has to have a pep talk with grandaddy's melted helmet because he, and I quote, keeps feeling that pesky pull to the light.

Listen. You can hate these movies. That's fine. God fucking knows I hate The Rise of Skywalker so much I just left that theater years ago and said to myself 'i can literally do better' and have been working on that since.

But I don't make up lies and post bullshit about it openly in the fandoms tags because I hated it.

I may say how much I hate this fucking line:

or how I hate this unnecessarily long this pointless sword fight goes on for:

but I'd never mock the fans who enjoyed it. I'd certainly never post anti shit openly to the fandom's tags to complain about not understanding it, that's for fuckin' sure. I hated TROS but I did watch it all the way through at least. A few times actually but admittedly I was fucking hammered one of those times. Nothing brings friends together like shitting on a movie for it's entire runtime, but I digress.

It's wild to me you didn't notice the painfully obvious romantic not-even-subplot. What do you mean you felt the redemption of the fallen only son of Leia Organa, Han Solo, the nephew of Luke Skywalker, grandson of Anakin and Padame came to you by surprise? In the same movie series that redreamed Darth Fucking Vader?

You not noticing the very obvious connection between these Two Main Characters in a movie series about light side/dark side dichotomies sounds like a you problem, because the evidence is so painfully in the open not noticing it is like standing in a forest and not noticing the trees. And I get it, art is subjective but even on that stance this isn't bad acting between Adam and Daisy. There's very real emotions in these scenes with these actors playing these characters. Rey's tears and frustration never feels forced. Luke's blind determination never feels out of character. Ben's stunted ability to express himself in a healthy way feels like it's coming from a place Adam knows too well.

You didn't notice the reylo because you were not paying attention to these movies does not mean the pairing was not there. It doesn't mean the movies were 'bad'. It just means you hated these movies and didn't care to notice, which again is fine but man it's fuckin' wild to even have an opinion about something like this if you hated it so much. For example: I really didn't like the antman and wasp movies and you know how much I care about that pairing? None. Not enough to comment that's for fucking sure. The fuck does my opinion on it matter? I ain't in this fandom and even if I feel like the movies ain't good, the fuck does being negative to the entire fandom accomplish? I know somewhere out there that shit is someone's number one thing and that's cool, let them enjoy it. I'd just rather leave that dog lie.

Anyhoots, smoke the rest of this fuckin' bowl with me and let's watch some star wars since you seem like you need a fuckin' refresher.

Please do the movie ships with the worst chemistry. I would like to see the world burn. 🥺

I will not include romantic comedies because pretty much all of them are actually terrible people in those movies and the dysfunction is kind of why the movie takes so long to work.

But if I had to pick which Canon couple had the worst Chemistry I had ever seen. I will have to pick two.

The first is Scott Lang and Hope Pym in the First Antman movie

Because my goodness, that was the most out of no where forced romance I have ever seen and it didnt feel right. Its not awful but its just so... out of left field that I was actually surprised. There were NO hints that there was romantic chemistry until the scene where the dad walked in on them. And I am still like wtf.

I havent seen the sequels so I dont know if it gets better, but to this day, I am still confused by it.

and for the second one. Its Rey and Kylo ren of Reylo from Star Wars

The most unbelievable thing in the Rise of skywalker wasnt Palpatine some how being alive, or even the fleet of star destroyers being beaten in the dumbest way possible. It was the writing that thought that having them kiss was a good idea. I know the fandom speculated about them being together, I was not one of those people. I still stand by the disney sequels being the biggest tragedy to star wars franchise and this was just the cherry on top of that Crap sundae.

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corroded-hellfire · 7 months ago

Text

Prompt Day 10: Pride

Word Count: 998

Rating: G

Pairing: None

CW: Language

Summary: Corroded Coffin plays a gig at a fundraiser in Hawkins and Eddie understands what it's like to really make it. Part of my As You Wish universe!

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Jesus, have we ever played in front of this many people before?” Gareth asks as he shakes out his wrists to loosen them up.

“Have we ever performed in front of kids before?” Jeff questions in response.

“Have you guys ever played in front of your own kids?” Frank follows up, being the only one in the band who doesn’t have any children yet.

“Not like this,” Eddie says, fiddling with the knobs on an amp.

Somewhere out in the crowd of around two hundred are Ryan and Luke, anxiously awaiting their father’s rock star moment. They’re standing somewhere with Brittany and Wayne, and more than likely, Gareth’s and Jeff’s families too.

At first, Eddie was surprised that Brittany actually followed through on this event and didn’t invent a last minute excuse. But then it occurred to him—this is a family event, this fundraiser for the Hawkins Police Department. If she didn’t show up, then it wouldn’t look like the Munsons are the idyllic white-picket-fence family that Brittany likes to pretend they are to those who don’t know any differently.

Brittany probably felt obligated the moment Jeff’s wife Nicole, an officer with the Hawkins PD, asked Corroded Coffin if they’d perform at the fundraiser. Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was here out of the goodness of her heart or because she wanted to see her husband play music onstage.

“I can’t believe after all the times I had to deal with you guys as punk kids, I’m now about to introduce your band onstage.” Chief Hopper shakes his head and tosses his stub of a cigarette down on the ground, the toe of his boot digging the bud into the dirt.

“Aw, come on, Hop,” Gareth says, letting his hand land heavily on the taller man’s shoulder. “It was just a few noise complaints when our rehearsals went on too long.”

Hopper flicks the brim of his hat up and raises his eyebrows at the drummer.

“Yeah, with you. Caught Dawson here speeding almost every other week,” the police chief says, nodding towards Frank. “And Munson…well, shit, there’s not enough time before you guys are due on stage for me to get into that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie mumbles, a small smile on his lips, “Jeff’s the golden boy. Still is.”

“That’s because his wife has a gun,” Gareth stage whispers, making Frank and Eddie laugh.

The applause coming from the crowd out front signals that whoever was entertaining them has finished, meaning the guys are up.

“Ready boys?” Hopper asks, looking around at the band members. Once he’s satisfied with their nods of confirmation, he heads out onto the stage to make the introduction.

Feedback crackles before the chief’s deep voice booms over the speakers.

“Up next, we’ve got a band that’s been playing together in Hawkins for well over a decade now. You may recognize them from The Hideout or have even called into the station with a noise complaint about them.” There’s a rumble of laughter from the audience. “And one of the members is married to our very own Officer Nicole Samuels. Please welcome, Corroded Coffin.”

Hearing their band’s name being announced still gives Eddie a thrill, the blood in his veins buzzing with excitement, even after all this time.

The moment his boots hit the stage, Eddie can hear two particular cheers above all others.

“Yeeeeeah! Corroded Coffin!”

“Yay, Daddy! Go Daddy!”

It’s by far the best welcome he’s ever gotten whilst making an entrance.

As Eddie adjusts the microphone at the front of the stage, his eyes scan the crowd, and he sees a cluster of familiar faces. Two with extra enthusiasm make his mouth spread into a wide grin.

Ryan is sitting on Wayne’s shoulders, small black Corroded Coffin t-shirt on, throwing his fists in the air and cheering for his father. Luke is in Brittany’s arms, squirming around like crazy as he waves to Eddie on stage. To Brittany’s credit, she’s grimacing against all the movement Luke is doing, but she’s still holding him up so he can see.

Around them are the other guys’ families, along with Steve, Nancy, Max, and Lucas.

Eddie gives a wave to his boys as his bandmates get situated behind him. It’s impossible to wipe the smile off his face as he takes everything in: being back on stage, having a crowd of more than five, most of them actually sober, and having so many people he cares about in the audience. Especially his sons.

A surge of warmth crashes over Eddie and he can’t explain it any other way than pure happiness and pride.

“Hello, Hawkins,” Eddie says into the mic, receiving another round of applause in response. “How we doing tonight?”

“GOOD!”

Luke’s sweet, loud voice echoes above everyone else’s and Eddie can’t help but chuckle into the mic.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we hope you’re ready to have some fun.”

They open with Metallica’s version of Whiskey in the Jar. It’s his boys’ favorite song of the iconic band’s because of the fun lyrics that sound like nonsense when you sing along. Eddie knew right off the bat that this is the song he wanted to kick the show off with.

As the part of the song that the boys like comes closer, Eddie finds them in the crowd and keeps his gaze locked on them.

Yeah, musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, ha, yeah

Whack for my daddy-o

There’s whiskey in the jar, oh

The joy on Ryan and Luke’s faces brings Eddie a sense of rightness that he’s never felt before. It’s like something clicked into place within him that’s been waiting all these years to find where it belongs.

I’ve made it, Eddie thinks to himself. Fuck a record label or a world tour. They don’t mean shit when his playing draws so much joy out of his sons. Nothing can top that.

This is what making it feels like.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #corrodedcoffinfest #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #CCF #AYW #AYWS

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years ago

Text

and what of your love?

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (nsfw / 18+)

part two of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: 'don't you love me?' , part three: the flames that divide , part four: the aftermath

themes: angst (obvi), smut, mention of violence/death, language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 4.6k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is to be married, but his heart is not in it. In fact, he feels as if he hasn't had a heart ever since you left.

The message sits on your desk, the words all too vivid and clear, as if mocking you.

"You are cordially requested to bear witness to the union of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his future consort, Lady Alys Rivers..."

You had rushed through the words, in utter disbelief, your heart breaking all the while. Towards the end, it also stated, “His Royal Highness, King Aegon II, wishes to extend a truce, only to the Lady y/n, for the entire duration of the royal festivities, at the behest of Prince Aemond."

Oh please.

It has been over a year since you last saw him in your field, and ever since that night, you've tried your hardest to erase him from your heart. When he played a hand in the death of Lucerys, you were sure that would be the nail in the coffin of whatever love you may have had for him. Sweet, brave Luke who grew to become a brother to you. He was too young. The pain was crippling, the rage it unravelled was immeasurable.

You tell yourself, every day, every hour, that Aemond is lost. The man you once loved, the Prince who relentlessly pursued you, the lover who promised you the world - was no more.

But even you can't fool yourself.

Every time word reaches you of his latest crime, you don't feel hate. You want to only be angry, you should be. But you just can't.

He will always be your Aemond. You may condemn his actions, but you could never cut yourself free of him. He will always have a part of you, which is why you haven't taken any other lover.

But, apparently, he has.

The Lady Alys Rivers was rumoured to be beautiful, and enchanting. The perfect match for the equally alluring young prince.

Oh, seven hells. This must be a joke. Surely, he doesn't think I would actually deign to attend this union.

When you gave word to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were sure that Aemond is merely toying with you. They knew all too well about your past affair, and seemed assured that this invitation was just a way for Aemond to get under your skin. To get you to lower your defenses.

There was no way you would cross over into enemy territory, given the heightened scale of the ongoing war.

Besides, why the fuck would you want to?

If he truly has forgotten me, if he has truly fallen for another, then I must move on. He no longer is my Aemond. He is hers.

Resolute, you take the parchment, the confirmation of what you have lost, and throw it into the hearth.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The revelry is in full swing, and the lords and ladies of the court are jovially partaking in the week-long festivities, customary before a grand wedding of a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Albeit now there is an atmosphere of gloom. A sense of unease due to the war is felt by most, and tonight, ale and dancing and fucking are the thoughtless remedies.

The groom, Prince Aemond, sits stoically at the High Table. His inebriated King brother sits to his left, and his bride, Lady Alys, to his right.

She keeps one hand on him, as she does every time, as if she fears that he might run away.

He has half a mind to do just that, plotting as he sips his wine. You had not showed up. You had not even given any notice of having received the invitation.

Does she know I am to be married? Does she not care?

Aemond downs his cup of wine in one long swig, to which his brother cheers, and pats him on the back.

His soon-to-be wife, glances at him chastisingly, and says, "Slowly, my love, the feast has only just begun."

My love. Aemond whips his head to her in a flash, "I told you not to call me that. Call me whatever you wish, just not that."

Lady Alys flinches at his tone, "Careful with how you address me, Aemond. I am your wife."

Aemond takes another swig after his cup has been filled, "Not yet."

"It makes no difference. I will be, soon," his consort smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, "Dance with me, husband?"

"Hmm," he tries to remain polite, although it's taking much resolve, "you go ahead. I'll remain here for now."

She plants a heavy kiss on his cheek, giggling, and joins the dance, getting lost in the crowd.

Aemond muses about his consort, how provocative and sly she is. The reason why he chose her, after the incessant nagging from his mother Alicent that he should be married, is because she's just about the least likely prospect.

Alicent immediately wanted to marry him off to some other highborn lady, someone more proper. Not the bastard daughter of House Strong, but he disagreed. He had no personal desire to be married, anyway, and is merely performing his duty. Marrying for love was clearly out of the cards, since you...

You. Aemond takes another gulp of wine.

He chose Alys on a whim, but also because she was the most amusing out of his options. She is beautiful, brazen with her words, and didn't care much for pomp and nobility. And, well, she was the one who is the most similar to you. Although, she can never hold a candle to your hold on Aemond's heart.

Aemond didn't love her, no, but he is able to tolerate her at least. He once thought that, perhaps, if you had never been in the picture, maybe Alys might have been able to steal his heart instead.

But you are. And you had.

He wonders if you still feel longing, if you also possess that incessant emptiness in your chest. If you still... love...

Fuck. I need her. He takes another drink.

"Brother," Aegon claps him on the shoulder loudly, jeering, "I've never seen you swig ale that quickly. Don't worry about losing your bachelorhood. You're the fucking Prince! You can have any bedmate you want, and your wife can't say a single thing."

There is it again. Wife. Aemond begins to think it vile. A pang of pity also befalls him for his dear sister Helaena, that she should be saddled with an imbecile of a spouse such as Aegon.

Fortunately, in a twisted way, it may even be beneficial for Helaena that her husband sleeps around, so that she may constantly not be on the receiving end of his nightly drunken stupors.

He wonders, dread and jealousy enveloping him, if you had taken anyone to wed. If he is anything like Aegon is as a husband, then war be damned. He would take Vhagar, reach wherever you and that mongrel may be, and end him.

In truth, even if your chosen consort would be the kindest lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond would still crush him. He would burn him to the ground.

Doesn’t she care the same? Why isn’t she here now, putting a halt to this farce of a marriage?

Perhaps, she doesn’t trust me. Of course, why would she? Given what I’ve done…

“I know why your face is so sour,” his drunken brother addresses him again, “It’s because of Lady y/n’s absence, is it not? Well, she may still be present at the actual wedding ceremony.”

“You reek of ale, brother. Drinking like a fucking Braavosi sea horse, as always.” Aemond snaps back, getting tense at the subject of you being brought up.

“Why must you be so into that bitch, Aemond?,” Aegon continues his tirade, “You have a lusty wife now, and you can have a thousand whores besides.”

In an instant, Aemond slams his fist on the table and gets off his seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Aegon, the King, shirks away from his brother, knowing it was unwise to get on his nerve. Despite jesting with him so often, he may have forgotten that he shouldn’t have mentioned you in that way.

The Kingsguard draw close, prepared to defend their king. Ser Criston Cole rushes over to Aemond, “Stand down, my prince. Not here.”

Aemond glares at his brother, and if looks could kill…

Until he mumbles that sinister, “Hmm.” He composes himself, and raises a hand up to the guards, and to the crowd, “Carry on.”

The feast reluctantly restarts at first, but moments after, the whole exchange was forgotten.

But Aemond can no longer just sit there. If you weren’t going to come to the feast, or to the wedding, then there may be another way to get you to him.

He stands, ignoring the questioning looks coming his way, and he stalks out of the great hall.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It has been a long evening, mostly spent in the Black Council, analysing the current trajectory of the war. Everyone was in agreement that the Greens have not made any significant measures due to the ongoing wedding festivities of one Prince Aemond.

Half of the council wanted to strike then, while they were occupied with all that pompous nonsense, while the other half favoured a temporary truce, at least until the nuptials have been finalized, for the sake of upholding and respecting Westerosi tradition.

Daemon, being Daemon, had only this to say, “Oh, who cares if my one-eyed nephew will be wed? All our eggs will be there, drowned in booze, in one basket. We should ride and just burn everything down.”

But that was the problem. Everyone would indeed be there. Even the lords and ladies, the maesters, the children, who were simply forced to side with the Greens, out of fear for their lives. Rhaenyra didn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed, to which you agree.

You return to your chambers, exhausted, mostly due to the sore subject of Aemond’s wedding having been mentioned often. You were grateful to Rhaenyra, who was quick to change the matter of discussion, when she noticed you were growing uncomfortable.

Walking over to your table, you notice a plain black box, one that was not there when you left. You trace your fingers over it, feeling the smooth wooden exterior, and carefully lift the lid.

Your heart stops.

Gillyflower.

A cluster of fresh gillyflower lay inside, in a bright burst of red and violet. The flower that grew so wildly in that field. Yours and Aemond’s.

This used to be your tradition. If either of you wished to meet the other there, all you had to do was surreptitiously send some gillyflower. Like your own shared secret message.

Normally, there would be have been a bit of parchment, with sweet words imprinted.

My love.

My flower.

Come to me.

Each day without you is one I cannot bear.

Now, there was none. But you are sure, this can only be from Aemond.

Should I…? What if it’s a trap?

You mind races, heart beating wildly. You want nothing more than to take the risk, but what of your allegiance? Would you be betraying them? You should be concerned for your safety, but you also knew, he would never hurt you.

You need answers. You need revenge. You need Ae…

Oh, seven hells. Grabbing your sword, and putting on your cloak, you make your way out the door.

“Going somewhere?”, Daemon stands, leaning against the wall, as if expecting you to come out at any moment.

“Daemon,” you say, surprised. The cloak and the sheathed sword surely gave you away.

“It’s my nephew, isn’t it?”

“What-“

“I intercepted the messenger who brought over that box. I wondered about the contents, but then, who else could it be from?”

“Hmm,” you whisper, knowing it futile to hide anything from Daemon, “he wishes to meet me. I know not what for.”

“And you’re going.” He replies, as if stating a fact.

You nod, thinking of the right thing to say next. About how you will never betray Rhaenyra, how you only need to see him even if you’re not sure why, how you will be able to fend for yourself.

But your worries are quelled when Daemon says, “You better hurry then.”

“Daemon,” you say, not expecting him to just let this slide so easily.

“Listen, y/n, I trust you. I trust that you know what you’re doing,” he moves closer to you, “As for my nephew, he may be a bloody monster, and I may never forgive him, but I’m sure he thinks himself lucky to have someone like you to love him truly.”

You stare at him in admiration. There was a reason why Daemon drew so many people to him. He was cunning and highly dangerous, yes. But he was also intelligent and fair.

“I myself think the same way in that I have Rhaenyra to love me, as wretched as I am,” he smiles, and nudges your shoulder, “Go.”

You start to walk away, but you turn back once more, “Thank you, Daemon.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The field is more or less the same, although the growth of gillyflower has become more relentless, pockets of red and violet and white spread all throughout.

You dismount from your dragon, close to Vhagar, and the great and terrifying beast only grunts in recognition. You were one of the only two people whom she was comfortable around, after your many trysts spent riding with Aemond.

“Hello again, you beauty,” you call out to her, “Where is your master, hmm?”

The field itself was empty, but there was a new fixture in the distance, close to the hills. A small, stone cabin, with faint candlelight burning inside.

Steeling yourself, you make your way over, knowing that nothing can truly prepare you for what’s to come.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“My love.”

You hear him the moment you walk inside, and you have to stop yourself from running straight into his arms. You raise your head, and finally meet his gaze.

Aemond looks rougher, more rugged. As if the war has taken its toll. All the fighting must have strained him, as his figure is still lean and lithe but more muscular.

“Aemond,” you finally say, taking a quick glance around the room. It’s a humble space, with a large bed pushed up against the wall, candles haphazardly placed around the room. You see a bunch of gillyflower on a round table, weapons hung neatly above the fireplace, as well as…

Aemond follows your eyeline, and takes the framed image from the wall.

“Do you wish to see it?” he says, but he’s already handing it to you.

Taking it in your hands, you study the image containing a likeness of you. Every detail of your face, to your neck, down to your shoulders, portrayed by an artist’s skilled hand.

You try to comprehend what the fuck exactly it is you’re looking at, and you also can’t seem to grasp how cordial Aemond is acting about everything.

As if he hadn’t played a hand in the demise of some people you truly cared for.

You slowly hand the painting back to him, the words stuck in your throat.

He hangs it back up, “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love? I had it made not too long ago. As for this place, well, I needed somewhere where I can still have you. One way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” you manage to say.

“I haven’t been able to see you in far too long, my love. Too. Long.”

“There’s a clear reason for that, Aemond,” you say firmly, growing uneasy at the unhinged look in his eye, unblinking, devouring the sight of you.

He reaches for your hands, and you instinctively flinch backwards.

“Don’t, Aemond.”

“Why not, hmm?” he circles you, pacing ever so slowly, stopping just behind you, “You came here on your own volition, pet. You wanted to come, to see me.”

“I came to talk.”

“Hmm,” he makes the low noise that he always does, and it makes you want to just capture that sound from his lips with your own. He lowers the hood of your cloak, and you just stand there, letting the situation unfold.

Aemond’s fingers brush purposefully against the back of your neck as he takes your cloak off, and leaves in it a pile by your feet.

He steps closer, and you feel his breath against your neck. Using one hand, he pulls you to his chest. You don’t want to turn around and face him, afraid you might lose control, but you also can’t find it in you to move away.

“You built this place,” you state, your voice flat.

“This is our secret place, y/n,” he whispers close to your ear, “Every corner is a tribute to you. There is your picture, your favourite flowers, the sheets are of your favourite colour, the volumes on the mantel are the stories you like the most. Through this, I have some way of being with you.”

“Aemond,” you force yourself to pull away from him, “my love.”

“You finally said it,” he smiles.

“What?” you lean against a wall.

“My love,” he says, and moves to sit on a chair opposite you, “you’ve called me by name since you arrived, until then. Even though I don’t mind the way my name rolls off of your sweet tongue.”

“Stop,” you remind yourself that you came here for answers, “why did you call me here? Aren’t you about to wed?”

“Only for the sake of my duty, to further the Targaryen line.”

“Really? Why Alys Rivers then? Why not some highborn, legitimate lady?” your voice grows cold, and Aemond smirks at your jealousy.

“Because I simply don’t care. It pisses mother off, and you as well, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re free to wed whomever you wish, Aemond.”

“No,” he says, “I am not. Otherwise, I would have wed you a long time ago.”

“Well, your actions have forever buried that possibility,” you say too quickly, ire reflected in your words.

He flinches at your words, his lips pursing, “I only do what I have to do.”

“You didn’t have to kill Luke!” you lunge forward, your hand flying to the hilt of your sword by your waist.

Aemond notices your movement, but does nothing, “Hmm, Luke was merely a casualty in this war.”

“He was your family, Aemond. He was just a child. Why?”

He says nothing, and looks at you up and down, assessing your growing distress.

“Do you even regret it?” you ask.

A long pause passes, until he says, “I only regret that it has caused you pain.”

“Wrong answer, Aemond.” You unsheathe your sword, holding it out straight it front of you, “Fight me.”

This is the only right thing you can think of doing. The other things that have crossed your mind were completely unsavoury, unthinkable acts to do with the murderer who caused the death of your friend. You shouldn’t reach for him, you shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t admire him, you shouldn’t run your fingers down his scar with reverence. Never again.

So, perhaps, you should bring him to justice.

“My love,” his tone is amused, and you grow even more frustrated.

“Get your sword.”

He stands, a sly curve on his prominent bowed lips.

My brave girl, he thinks.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

For fuck’s sake, Aemond. No. “Your sword, Aemond.”

He backs away slowly to where his sword hangs above the fireplace, takes it, and diligently twirls it in one hand.

Your nerve starts to fail. Aemond was surely a better swordsman; he has been furiously training all his life. But, well, so have you.

Long ago, you and him even trained together. You may stand a chance.

“Your move, pet,” he says, tauntingly.

You cross the distance between the two of you, and deal the first parry, your blades connecting loudly in the air. An electric pause occurs, and Aemond smirks at you.

You dodge to the side, and lunge at him again. He easily deflects the blow.

You circle each other, and it’s unclear as to who is the predator and who is the prey.

Aemond deals a wide overhead arch, and you’re quick to block it halfway. This brings his face dangerously close to yours, and he whispers, nearly against your lips, “Surrender, my love.”

“Never,” you lunge backwards again, and Aemond twirls his sword smoothly, once, twice, and another final time.

Then, he spins in a circle, his sword a mere blur in the air, before delivering his final stroke, pushing you against the wall, the edge of his blade an inch away from your neck.

But, you were able to anticipate this, at the last second, as your sword slipped from your grasp.

“I win, pet. You’re mine.”

“Think again.” you whisper, and when he looks down, he finally notices the sharp edge of your knife poking at his ribs.

He looks at you in awe, “Well, I suppose we both have each other then, my love.”

He lunges forward, and claims your lips in a searing kiss. Wild, and passionate, as if to make up for lost time. Your respective blades remain where they are, and he muses, “Hmm, you know, we could just kill each other here. A glorious lovers’ death.”

“Aemond,” you say, out of breath from the kiss, and let your knife clatter to the floor.

He does the same with his sword, and pushes you against the wall once more, using his whole body to keep you in place.

“Tell me what you came for, my love. The truth.”

“I…” you say, deciding to let everything go, “I came for you.”

That is all he needed. And, for you, it feels freeing to allow yourself to just want Aemond. To love him. Despite what’s he has done, and how wrong this may be.

Your Aemond.

You run your fingers down the side of his face, and he shuts his eye in ecstasy. Your fingers stop at his eyepatch, asking permission, and he nods once, immediately.

His sapphire eye never fails to take your breath away. If anything, it only made him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, and his heart swells.

He takes your face in his hand, admiration raw in his expression. Then he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your lips battle each other, as he strides over to the bed. He gently lowers you, and your arms naturally reach for his neck, bringing him down with you.

He chuckles deeply, flattered by your eagerness, “Patience, my love.”

“I have been patient,” you respond, as he nips at your neck, “but now I just want to take.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’ve missed your fire.”

“I’ve missed my dragon.”

“And,” he says, softly, pausing to kiss you, “a dragon…” another kiss, “is nothing…”, and another, “without its fire.”

“Oh, Aemond.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I am lost without you.”

He makes swift work of untying your dress, only pausing to leave kisses down your body, until you’re left in a sheer white shift. You sit up, helping him remove his tunic, admiring every ripple of muscle, every new scar, every stretch of his glowing skin. His hair had come loose, the signature Targaryen silver like an aura surrounding him.

When he’s undressed, he takes the final piece of clothing off of you, the white shift that leaves nothing to the imagination, and throws that to the floor with the rest.

You begin a sort of dance, one that you both know so well, repeated over many sleepless nights filled with passion.

He always starts with you, lowering himself down to your heat. You almost come undone every time you see him, lips close to your entrance, before he makes the first taste. His eye gleams up at you, and then he begins.

Tongue swirling at your entrance, while his thumb masterfully plays with your folds. He keeps at it for a long moment, before he takes a second to look you right in the eye while he brings his fingers to his lips.

“Mmm,” he breathes, then he lowers his lips to your wet cunt once more.

“Aemond,” your fist bunch up at the sheets, your back arches, your toes curl.

He makes you tremble, your breath hitching at intervals.

He feels you getting close, so he licks one last strip upward, “Not yet, my love.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Hmm, say that again,” he gets up, positioning his knees on either side of your thighs.

“My Prince Aemond,” you say, “Mine.”

“Yours,” he purrs.

He takes your lips again, an action you will never grow tired of, his fingers gripping your hair. He kisses down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck. He sucks at the flesh, marking his territory, making you press your pelvis onto his, feeling the length of his hardened shaft.

“Hmm,” he shivers, “fuck.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to position himself, and he does.

His pushes his tip to your cunt. Torturously, but only just.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” you moan, “come inside me, Aemond.”

He laughs, “As you wish, my love.”

He stretches you wide, pushing inch by inch, and you have to grow accustomed to his size once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” he is quick to ask, watching your face intently.

“It’s okay,” you grip the back of his neck, “keep going.”

With one deep grunt, he fills you completely, thrusting deep.

He moans, music to your ears, and whispers your name. He rolls his hips backward, then forward again, the motion more rough this time, moving your entire body upward.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “my Aemond.”

“My love,” he looks at you in wonder, sprawled beneath him, “it’s only been you. It will only ever be you.”

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him passionately. His hips resume movement. Slow, deep thrusts at first.

Then he turns wild. He ruts into you, quicker, more frantic, the smacking sounds of flesh and sweat, and unhinged animalistic moans echoing throughout the room.

He does a surprising move, his fingers first drifting around your neck, then applying pressure, and he looks like a vengeful, hot-blooded god above you. His face hovers just inches above yours, and his grip on your neck unexpectedly excites you, the danger of Aemond only serving to make things more erotic, and reckless. Your dark prince.

You dig your nails into his wrist, returning the pressure.

“You should have married me,” he breathes, “why didn’t you run away with me?”

“Aemond,” everything throbs, the fire in your abdomen reaching its climax, from his frenzied thrusts, to his hand on your neck, to his crazed expression.

“You’re mine. They can’t have you. No one else can.” His words are punctuated with hard thrust, after hard thrust.

Almost simultaneously, gloriously, you both come apart. Aemond spasms inside you, filling you with his seed. Your hips continue to jerk against him, as you writhe uncontrollably, riding down your high.

He places one more soft kiss upon your lips, then collapses beside you.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting the feeling wash over you.

You feel his fingertips on your neck, and you open your eyes, finding him lying on his side, studying you.

“Was that okay?" he asks, referring to his grip on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you reassure him, turning to your side as well.

He hums in return, before smirking, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You laugh at his forwardness, and he looks at you lovingly.

He leans forward to kiss you, “My heart has returned.”

You feel a pang of guilt at how you left him, all that time ago, even if it may have been the right thing to do. It will never be simple between you and Aemond.

“I missed you,” you say wholeheartedly.

“And what of your love?” he says, taking your hand.

“My Aemond,” you press your forehead to his, “It will never be gone.”

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I've decided to save most of the sadness & regret for the next part, and yes, there will be a part 3. Our boy Aemond is still to be married after all. And he is still a "bloody monster" with majestic hair.

I hope I've tagged all those who asked - I'll keep yous tagged for any upcoming Aemond fic as well.

Taglist open - just comment.

PS. Alys Rivers is apparently Aemond's lover in the books, and I fear the feral jealous monster I will become if they decide to show that old hag in the upcoming seasons of HOTD. Sorry, not sorry.

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

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