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cherryheairt · 1 month ago

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Dragon Dreamer side story I

dont need to read the story to understand this

In which Cregan's meeting of Dusk parallels Daenys' first flight.

side story before chap 15, didn't know where to fit it in the chapters. 🩷

foreshadowing for chap 15 also

taglist: (i wasn't sure if I'm supposed to tag the list ppl if its only a mini side story, let me know if you only want main chaps)

@hueanhdang @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @thelastemzy @pedro-pascal-love @fall-winter-heart97 @purple-1995 @itsaslaminak @saintkittykat @iv7867 @alexandra-001 @thatkindofgurl @theadharablack @reyndaisy @mandeepandee1997 @littleblackcatinwonderland

Daenys always remembered the day of her first flight on Morningstar well. Every vivid detail locked in her mind, even at the young age of seven that she was. Many memories of that time had long faded in her adulthood, but a few in particular could never leave. Some fond, some not.

The day did not start out pleasantly. Not at all, in fact. Her mother was busy fussing over young Luke in her chambers nusery rooms in the Red Keep. Her father was away at sea on another voyage, and had been for months.

Daenys was not mad at them, of course. She would not demand attention, especially when Luke had recently come down with his first fever. Those were always watched closely, by Maester or mother. Daenys had drifted around the nursery for a while before growing bored. Jace was preoccupied with some visiting young sons of House Massey, and Helena was with her mother, leaving Daenys to find her own occupation.

Outside, dark storm clouds gathered at a pace much faster than Daenys was comfortable with. There was rainfall in King's Landing often, yes, but nothing harsh and unforgiving. The sound of drizzling hitting her window on a cool day always calmed Daenys.

Even at sea, a storm could not tame a Targaryen or Velayron. She wondered how her father fared. If a storm was gathering above him, too?

After lazing around her chambers for a while, the storm had turned from a drizzle to a downpour quickly. The thunder 'boomed!' outside of her windows and the harsh water droplets sounded like rocks being pelted at the glass and stone.

Huddled in her room, she just wished the storm to go away.

Unluckily for Daenys, something much worse came. Aegon.

Barging into her sleeping chambers as if they were his own, Daenys was startled out from under her covers by his harsh yank.

"Come, niece! I have a surprise for you." Aegon said, a twinkling in his eyes.

Confused, Daenys did not move. Not yet a teen, the boy's taste for mischief grew every day. His main victim—Aemond. His second favorite, Daenys of course. Only because she was less easy to find, thanks to Ser Harwin's careful shadowing. The two were the easiest targets, though Jace followed Aegon around often like a little pup eager to please its owner. Helena was unreceptive towards such teasings, perhaps because she was unaware of their true meaning.

He tried again, "it will be worthwhile. It is a secret—only I know about." He boasted, chest puffed up like a peacocking bird.

Daenys slipped out from the bed, boredom and curiosity overtaking her common sense. It couldn't be that bad, surely. If Aegon found something cool in the Red Keep, she at least wanted to know what it is, else the unknown would knaw at the back of her mind for weeks.

"What is it?" She asked slowly.

"Wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?" He scoffed lightly, turning and striding out of her bed chambers.

Daenys followed quickly, reminding herself of Jacaerys as she cringed. A quick look and she'd return to her chambers.

The thunder continued beyond the walls as Aegon went to his chambers.

Within his rooms contained mostly simple things since he did not spend much time in them. Daenys, bemused, turned to look at Aegon, who clawed strangely at his walls.

"It's just..." he trailed off in his search. "Here!" He exclaimed, pushing open the wall to reveal a hidden space behind it.

Daenys gasped slightly, leaning forward to see behind it. "Paths, within the walls of the Keep." Aegon said proudly. "And I found them on my own."

"Now, come on." He continued, guiding her hurridly by a shoulder.

"We're going inside? What does it lead to?" She asked, apprehensive of getting lost in such dark tunnels.

"Everywhere." He shrugged nonchalantly.

The darkness was only broken by the torch that he held in his hand. The world was otherwise a dark pit, leaving Daenys to cling to his tunic like a child to her mother's skirts. Aegon allowed it only due to the fact that it made her walk with haste. The rain sounded louder as they went along, down some dusty stairs and winding trails.

As Aegon pushed open another piece of wall, he peaked his head out to check for people. The rain was clear as day when it had opened, revealing the storm in all its glory. Satisfied, he turned back to her with a grin and nodding his head towards the outside. "Look, you can see the entrace to the castle from here."

Daenys peaked just her head out, gawking at the sight. They were outside of the Keep's main building, able to see the stairs up to the grand entrance doors from their spot. The doors were closed, no guards bothering to stay outside in such conditions and instead closing the doors to the Keep instead of guarding them. No one would bother attempting to enter unwarranted in such weather anyways.

On the other side of the courtyard was the open arch towards the outside, King's Landing's city itself. Daenys had only ever been to visit the Sept and the dragonpit. With escorts, of course.

Without warning, Aegon pushed Daenys outside of the safety of the passage. Stumbling to catch her footing, she turned back to Aegon to ask why he had done that, only to be met with a slammed 'wall'.

Panicking, she pushed at the wall. Banging on it after it didn't budge, she yelled to Aegon, "let me in! This isn't funny, Aegon!"

She heard muffled speaking behind the wall, but was unable to make it out. After a short pounding on the wall, she presumed that Aegon had accidentally jammed the door and run off.

She prayed that he'd at least have the decency to admit his prank to Alicent and someone would be sent after her.

Daenys rushed to the entrance doors, repeatedly pounding on them. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard nothing. Only the ever-pouring rain all around her. She was soaking wet already, feeling like a drowned cat in her heavy day dress and loose hair. Coughing, she found little cover under the roofs of the entrance. With all the wind the effort was made futile.

She waited and waited for someone to exit the doors, but none came.

She wanted her father.

With Laenor gone for such long periods of time, the days dragged on endlessly with no means of communication between the kin. He was her best friend, besides perhaps Helena. He always cheered her up, made time for her, and took her on long rides in the skies with Seasmoke being the willing transportation. He would notice straight away that Daenys was missing from her chambers.

Giving up on her efforts, Daenys decided to go to the only other place she could stay safe and dry. The dragonpit. She knew the way there like the halls of the Red Keep, but had never made the journey alone before. Already shivering, she couldn't wait. Walking past the yard's archway, Daenys glanced around. The streets were empty beyond the stairs' bottom. Any passerbys gave her no notice as they scurried past, covering their heads or food with cloths.

Daenys ducked her head after passing every straggler, even with that information in mind. Any curious eye would notice the fancier clothes and jewels on the little girl, and who knows what one desperate person was willing to do. Luckily, in its wet state, her hair managed to look more grey and blonde than the moon-silver it was when dry.

It wasn't long before she reached the pit. Tiptoeing inside, she found that even the keepers had gone home in the midst of the harsh storm. What fools would enter a dragon's home, anyway?

The pit was pitch black, filled only with the sound of soft snores.

Daenys whispered out, "Morningstar?" For the young dragon she was bonded to.

Miraculously, the two were born on the same day. When an egg was placed in a cradle, it was usually weeks or moons before the egg hatched after the birth. The two were twins, beyond just a Valyrion blood bond.

Another deeper growl met her ears. Turning, she was met with a slight glimmer of gold. Sunfyre, Aegon's dragon. They had quite an impressive bond despite Aegon's lackluster skills in the dragon's known language.

She froze, preparing herself to be devoured by the beast. She had never spent time with The Golden like she had other dragons: Meleys, Seasmoke, Syrax, Vermax, and Arrax. They all knew her, welcomed her as their bonded riders had. Sunfyre was one of the only ones she had not interacted with except to observe his and Aegon's bonding time. As they all often did as a group, assigned by Viserys, of course.

If he was here, where was Dreamfyre? The massive blue dragon seemed to take the younger golden one under her wing, sticking with him when she was not out flying with Helena. Gulping, she backed up slowly. The dragon inched closer, now seemingly curious of the girl. His pointed snout poked at her, almost unintentionally knocking her over with its power. Hesitantly, she petted at his nose, earning a satisfied rumble from him. Attention starved, she was sure, from Aegon's forgetfulness.

Relaxing finally, Daenys allowed herself to lean into the dragon's warm touch. Laughing at his second nudge for more attention, she had to push him away reluctantly as she heard shuffling coming near. Morningstar, rising from the sound of her laugh, closed in on the two and rose her neck defensively toward Sunfyre like a baby snake. The other, though he was slightly larger than the white dragoness, huffed and backed away back to continue his sleep.

Aegon had been able to ride Sunfyre since he was 10 years old, praised for the young age that he was able to command a dragon. Though, he could not best her mother, who had been titled the youngest dragonrider in the realm. Her first flight with Syrax was when she was seven years old. Now, Syrax and Rhaenyra had an unbreakable bond, and the bronze dragon was still growing, though large and formidable, like her forebares.

Rhaenyra had suspected Morningstar would grow quickly and to an impressive size, given the ancestry of the white dragon. At seven, she was already approaching the size of a dragon almost four years her elder. Daenys didn't mind if she was big or small, though, as long as Morningstar stayed by her side.

Daenys turned to place a soft kiss on her dragon's snout, giggling at the jealousy of her dragon. "I was coming, don't worry." She cooed. Leaning her weight on to the dragon, she felt the sting of tears hit her eyes. Safe now, she could allow herself to relax in the comfort of Morningstar's warmth.

Though the dragon had other plans. One big purple eye never seemed to leave Daenys, a lingering need for something. Usually, the hungry look she held when a live sheep or deer was placed in front of her. Daenys couldn't understand her with words, but with actions. Leaning back from the embrace she attempted to hold the dragon in (barely, the same arms that could wrap around the dragon's neck entirely could not even reach from head to shoulders anymore), Daenys squinted.

"What do you need?"

Morningstar trilled, lowering to a suggesting crouch. The position made the idea spring to her head, gasping. It was the same that Syrax or Seasmoke lowered into to allow their riders to mount. The wing lay out in front of her, though it was too small and thin now for her to actually press her full weight on like an adult dragon's could handle. Gingerly, Daenys hopped on to the dragon's back. Spines and rough scales picked at her limbs as she uncomfortably shifted.

She was unsure if anyone had been able to ride saddleless, but she was determined not to let this slip past her. If Daenys could fly now, as she was destined to, she would no longer be confined to the Red Keep. At any time she wished she could escape. To the beach, where her father took her to comfort her, to Driftmark, where her grandmother and grandsire could welcome her in their home, to wherever Morningstar would take her.

Daenys did not wait any longer, grasping onto Morningstar's horns with a firm, "Sōvēs."

Immediately the command took, Morningstar running in the only way a dragon of her structure can; on her wings and hind legs. After breaching the pit's entrance, the dragon took flight. Even in the pouring rain, she could not be hindered or stopped. The dragoness was on a mission, whether of her own desire to allow Daenys to see what she saw daily or simply to comfort her. Whichever it was, she was grateful for it.

King's Landing seemed tiny behind her. It was such a small city yet it seemed to contain the entire realm's sins in its walls. Turning her head back forward, she only wished to forget the Keep for the time being.

She felt wild, free to do whatever she wished in the world. She could fly all the way to Essos, Dorne—The North. The thought was enticing. Flying far away from this filthy place and never returning. Her dragon-riding family was free to visit whenever they wished, but she would never be confined to walls again. Never locked out of her own home.

She imagined sailing the seas of Westeros and Essos, Morningstar above her scouting loyally. A fleet led by a Velayron and her dragon would be unbeatable—untouchable. Her father, too, at her side with Seasmoke. Luke, when he came of age to learn the duties of his heirhood, with Arrax following close behind the two elder dragons. They'd visit home often, of course, wherever they made their home, to be with the rest of their landlocked family who chose to stay behind and lead in the cities. Targaryens ruled the land while Velayrons ruled the seas, meeting in the air to be the most fearsome force any in history had witnessed.

Daenys would travel until she saw it all. All corners of the realm, a voyager at heart. Retirement would come slow and without issue, her heart filled with contentment and mind with memories to last a hundred lifetimes.

With her dragon, Daenys would be free.

🗡

Cregan was three and ten when his father died. Even younger when his brother and mother did. Loss was a familiar feeling to the young Stark. His only family left was his sister, Sara, and even she prepared to leave the Stark ancestral home for her martial days ahead. His uncle and his three sons had to be imprisoned in the dungeons under Cregan's own order—the only way to mercifully spare the power-hungry man. He was alone among his council, only guided by the same men who guided his father before him. They respected Cregan because they knew his capabilities, as shown by the small-scale civil war in Winterfell, but the distance was clear.

They did not hold the same affection for Cregan as they did for Rickon. They knew the young man was intelligent and clear-minded but still saw him as an inexperienced child compared to themselves. It was common that he had to correct members of his own council and remind them of their place, which was serving him and the North.

In time, Cregan was confident things would change for the better. It would take years of building assurance and trust, which he must practice patience for. He knew of his fate to lead Winterfell and the North as it's Warden since he could walk. The only unexpected thing was just how soon that would be. At seven and ten, he was ready to take the mantle back from his uncle. At eight and ten, he finally won it back.

Cregan held no happiness for the way he did, but it was the solemn duty of the Lord of Winterfell.

It had only been a few moons since he was named Lord Stark. Every day, he was nagged about different things.

"Lord Stark, it would be wise to start finding a Lady Wife."

"Lord Stark, the stockades for winter have been reduced for the commonfolk to recover from the spreading of illness."

Every day, it was the same. Solving problems for others was his responsibility, and he did it well, taking them upon his shoulders like he knew his father did years prior.

"Lord Stark, Castle Black has written to you about the Wildlings again."

"Lord Stark, your uncle Bennard is demanding to see you again. He is growing quite insistant."

Today, he was too tired to sit among the chattering bannermen on his council. He informed his men of him leaving on a solo hunt. Promising to return soon, Cregan swiftly left. One day a year, he got his own day. It was his nine and tenth nameday, the one time he allowed himself to serve his own desires instead of his people's.

They would not fall for a few days of being unguided. Cregan tried to shake the guilt he felt for leaving, if only for a few short days. With only his clothes, Ice, and traveling supplies, he left Winterfell's walls on Red.

Hours later, he felt tension leave his shoulders. Alone, there was no one hovering over his shoulders and murmuring in his ears about any problems or infighting. The only sounds were his own breathing and the snow crunching beneath Red's hooves.

The Wolfswood was a vast and expansive place, the perfect shelter for solitude. He had explored the wood so often as a child that it was no longer scary and foreign, instead a blanket of comfort to him. One of his few solaces which seemed to be less and less day after day.

His friends that warded in Winterfell to learn the duties as a Lord of their own Houses had left, old enough to either marry, take the mantle from their fathers, or serve at the wall. Cregan's cousin on his mother's side served there, too, a recent development that he both sympathized with and honored. His brother had passed when he was only a young lad, not even yet nine years of age before succumbing to illness. That solace was taken from him, leaving him rendered friendless and without most of his kin in his home. The bannermen that served him had served long and faithfully by Rickon Stark's side, and Cregan had no intention of replacing them with less experienced and wise men even at his own behest.

Loneliness was something he had grown used to. It had become its own comfort, a constant throughout his days. He knew he was the most reliable person in his life.

He longed for his family every day. His father, especially. The strong pillar of strength that he looked up to had left him so suddenly, reminding Cregan of his own morality. Every time he was nagged to take a wife, he knew they were right. He did not have the heart to lock himself in a loveless marriage, not when his lordship was so green. While his parents were lucky to find affection in their marriage, it did not change the fact that it did not start out so great. Rickon had been an ornery young man before he became Lord, fathering a bastard while he was bethrothed to Gilliane. Gilliane, while being a benevolent and kind woman, did not easily forgive a transgression like that.

It took years before they found love. They told the story to Cregan many times. He did not have time to spend building a relationship with a future Lady Stark, not when he was just starting to learn the full extent of his duties. The marriage would be strained and distant, he knew. Every day he postponed his decisions was another day the Starks went without an heir, making the North grow nervous and tense.

Sighing, Cregan forced dark thoughts from his head. Such things could wait until he was back home in the empty halls of the Great Keep.

Red trudged on, guided by instinct and Cregan's strong sense of direction. He hoped to bring home a deer, at least, to make the hunt worthwhile.

As the hours passed, Red seemed to grow anxious. Ears pinned to her head and tail flicking back and forth, agitated about something. Cregan pulled her to a hault, scanning the surrondings. If a horse as steady as Red grew nervous, something must be amiss.

Slowly, he dismounted and grabbed Ice from his shoulder. Scanning the forest around him, he saw nothing. Red shifted again, leaning almost away from the side opposite Cregan, but still she did not run.

He toed over to that side, not able to notice any shifts in shadows or footsteps. If it were wildlings, they'd surely make enough noise for him to hear. He was no stranger to their fowl tactics, nor clueless on how to deal with them.

Finally, it was only when Red 'neighed' with a panicked rear before she ran off that Cregan was able to notice the stalking wolf in the woods. Caught off guard, he couldn't brace himself properly before he was on the floor.

🗡

Grunting, he was given no time to think before he instinctively whriled around under the body pinning him. Snarling jaws met his bicep as he threw it out to cover his face. Only able to get on his side, Cregan struggled to reach for Ice. The wolf was a deep brown with big blue eyes that pierced hatefully into his own.

Unable to get his longsword, he instead punched at the nose of the wolf, earning a pained yelp but no release. Instead, he seemed to latch on harder. Cregan's arm burned like fire was leaking through his veins, the sensation almost numbing. Doing the only other thing he could think of, without losing a few fingers, Cregan bit down on the ear closest to him.

It was only then that the wolf finally let go, a bloody scar left on his ear from the force of the bite. The dip would be a painful reminder that humans were not prey, and Cregan's own scar was a reminder of his role in life—standing alone.

The wolf snarled and nipped at him again, but Cregan was able to kick him off of him this time. They both stood, staring each other down intensely. Both were ready to move when the other did, scanning and preparing for the next attack.

Cregan was able to properly assess the wolf. Finding that it was barely older than a pup, gauging from the size of its bared teeth, but had the body mass of an adult wolf. A direwolf, he knew it had to be. They grew quickly and almost three times the size of a normal wolf. Cregan would be dead if this one were an adult.

It was not starving, either. Cregan's nameday landed in mid Summer, meaning prey was abundant for the wildlife. His coat shined with the nutrients he clearly got regularly. His teeth were all there, sharper every day. His frame was as burly as a young wolf's could be. It was simply an aggressive young wolf eager to prove itself and mark its territory, which Cregan had apparently encroached upon.

Cregan narrowed his eyes, faultering when a shooting pain shot to his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw only himself staring back at him. His eyeline was low, as if he were a babe looking up at a man grown. His body was still in an uncanny sort of way. He had never seen himself beyond the occasional check in the mirror, but being able to see one's own body entirely was a surreal experience. With a clenched heart, Cregan held his breath and tried not to panic.

He was in the wolf. Or rather, in its mind. Able to see through its eyes and control its body, Cregan had known what this experience was but never thought it would happen to himself. A warg, just like many Starks before him had been. Most bonded with birds, small forest animals, or the hunting dogs in the kennels of Winterfell. He was quite unsure if any had warged into a direwolf before. They rarely came below The Wall, creatures of the dark and unknown.

Cregan wished for his father.

He had no one to guide him, lest he chose to seek out advice from his crazed uncle. The very thought was traitorous to himself and Rickon Stark. He must navigate this alone, though he wished desperately to be guided by the firm but gentle hand of his father just one more time.

He moved, just slightly. The effort was different, walking on four legs instead of two. All his senses were heightened, and his ear stung and smelled of iron. Or, the wolf's ear, he should say. A few feet in front of his face, he could even smell himself and the blood pouring from his arm wound.

The sun was setting now, the day almost over. What a long day it had been. When Cregan blinked again, he saw the wolf in front of him. The brown direwolf did not seem so menacing now, instead looking up at him with interest instead of bloodlust.

Cregan hesitantly knelt to the floor, reaching an open hand out to the direwolf. With the same weariness it approached, sniffing at the gloved hand before meeting Cregan's eyes again. "Hello, Dusk." He muttered, petting the space between his eyes and smiling at the way he leaned into the newfound affection.

It seemed they both needed each other.

Perhaps he wasn't so alone, not anymore.

GIVE HOTD BIG DRAGONS. Syrax was not tiny 😭 they make her such a pretty princess dragon (she is) so she has to be small? She was described as large just not ferocious or battle-worn. She could've fought and done some damage if Rhaenyra was allowed to fight

anyone else think Sunfyre really isn't 'the prettiest' dragon? I didn't care for his face design it looked quite off compared to others. I think Moondancer or Syrax would the most visually pretty ones lol I adore Moondancer's stripes

This may have seemed extreme from Aegon but I think its realistic of a 11-13 year old boy to pull a prank like that bc he doesn't know the type of consequences it could have. also, having a prank go wrong but not asking for help because you KNOW You'd be in deep shit is so real

when Aemon Targaryen called Cregan the finest swordsman he'd ever fought I took that personally

i firmly believe they'd both slightly be daddy's girl and daddy's boy characters as kids. love both parents equally of course, but the bond between them and their dads was just untouchable and couldn't be replicated.

also didn't want to make Rickon stark a cheater, I don't think Stark men are cheaters ✋️

no animal abuse pictured they were simply throwing hands. I'd like to think they play fight still occasionally, also that bite was embarrassingly inspired by Snow Dogs (2002). When the guy bit Demon's ear to finally get him to cooperate I just think its so funny and Cregan would do it

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #hotd

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cowgremlin11 · 1 year ago

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man i have no idea but its always over vikdecai?? when i first started to interact with the fandom after the pilot ppl in the discord server would bitch at me for liking the ship to the point a mod came in like 'stop asking them to justify why they ship it yall are stupid'

girl help I didnt expect homophobic comments on the lackadaisy speedpaint

#BUT WHEN ITS H E L L E R BY #OHHH #ITS THE BEST SHIP EEEVER #can you tell i get salty #esp cus the ppl who ship it hardcore only watched the pilot #saw two cute dudes #read some “”“life changing fanfic”“” <== thing i saw someone say one time #then they ship them cus they have nothing else to ship based off the pilot and what they know #cus then if you read the comic youll see 1. mordecai would never even think of being nice to rocky let alone fucking him #and 2. viktor and mordecai are each others soft spots and also were close partners for 6 years #it drives me up the fucking wall insane to the point i get angry and if you ask anyone whos close to me I DONT GET ANGRY #its a shitty double standard for people to be homophobic towards vikdecai then be all 'aww look pretty twinks kissing!!!theyre canon look pl #thats not how plushies work theyre literally just the top 2 characters #grem rambles #sorry for getting heated in ur tags koko i just feel a lot of things a lot #fuck the ppl in your yt comments they dont Get It #vikdecai

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thedvilsinthedetails · 9 months ago

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rosekiller band au microfic pt2

yayyy part 2 is here! (Again if there’s any typos lmk ty)

(also yeah I changed their ages slightly, the skittles r now 23 not 25 what r u gonna do about it?)

anywayssss here’s the ppl that asked to be tagged/said they wanted more so im tagging them anyway (sorry if u didn’t want that): @always-reading @lady-stardust-incarnate @lulublack90 @idk-what-to-put-here-123 @weirdtinkerbellversion @depressedtheatrekiddo @blu3stars @nikholascrow @good-oldfashioned-lover-girl @picklerab23

(As always if u wanna be tagged or not tagged pls lmk I won’t mind at all <3)

Link to Part One

Link to Next Part

***

Evan woke up the next morning to the harsh bleep of his phone that always managed to elicit pure terror in his body. He groaned and rolled out of bed. He’d forgotten to turn off the alarm and of course he was awake at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.

He threw on a dressing gown over his tank top and plaid pyjama bottoms, slipped into his fluffy slippers and trudged to the kitchen for some coffee.

Once he got to the kitchen he saw Dorcas was already sat at the little island she passed him a warm cup of coffee as soon as he sat down. Dorcas had always been the earliest riser of the band, always eager to get ready quickly and get the hell out of the house, he supposed that’s what growing up as the eldest sister to four brothers did to you.

“Heard your alarm go off, figured you’d forgot to turn it off.”

“Dorcas you lifesaver. And I mean seriously a lifesaver, I might have murdered someone without this coffee.”

Dorcas laughed.

“Who?”

Evan rubbed his eyes.

“Barty probably. He’s fucking annoying.”

“Any excuse to get up close to him then more like.”

Evan’s head snapped up.

“What?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“Please you’re shit at hiding it.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout Cas.”

Evan mumbled, taking a long drink from his mug.

“Please, save the crap. If you don’t have a crush on him, why do you get so worked up by people calling you a couple. It consumes your every waking thought, now why is that? Tell me.”

“Ughhh I don’t want to think about it.”

He groaned and stared into the brown murky depths of the mug he was cradling close to him.

Dorcas softened.

“Look, Marls and Barty are really close, our next tour stop is London which means she’ll obviously drop by rehearsals. I can get her to ask him if he-“

“He doesn’t.”

Evan ran his thumb over a tiny chip in the ceramic. It was a mug Barty had painted around four years ago, Dora had decided for her sixteenth she wanted to go to a pottery painting place like when they were little. Barty was- honestly pretty shit at painting. The background was covered in vast uneven strokes of black. He’d tried to paint a white ferret on it - ‘Ev this one is for you, if you were any animal I’d say you’d be a ferret.’ - thing is it looked more like a snake with legs that was also, well, a zombie. It was Evan’s most prized possession. He’d be taking it to the grave. He turned it to look inside the handle. Barty had been too lazy to paint that part so instead he’d just written crudely with the brush - ‘B + E forever bitches!’. His eyes crinkled fondly as he read it.

“I just need to get over it.”

His expression hardened and he looked up at Dorcas again.

“Get over what?”

They both turned to find Barty in the doorway. His hair was sticking up in all directions. Fuzzy spikes of green and black. He stretched his arms all the way up as he yawned, flexing his wrist so his ‘SKITTLES’ tattoo was on full display. He had one of Evan’s jumpers on over his pyjama top. Evan really wanted to reach out and hold. Why’d he have to go and look so soft? Wasn’t fucking fair.

“Nothing Jr.”

Barty nodded in response as he padded over and sat himself in the chair next to Evan.

“Why’re you even awake?”

Dorcas asked.

Barty dropped his head down onto the island counter dramatically.

“Forgot to turn off my alarm.”

Dorcas laughed out loud, fully threw her head back and everything.

“Two birds of a fucking stupid feather you two are.”

She got up and put her mug in the sink before heading out of the kitchen. Barty turned his head up to look at Evan as soon as she was gone.

“You don’t have to tell me anything Evan, but if you want to you can. You know that right?”

Barty lifted his head and propped it up on his hand as Evan nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah I know Barty.”

“Good.”

Barty shuffled his chair closer before dropping his head onto Evan’s shoulder and falling quiet. It was instinctual, the way Evan brought his arms up around him. After a few moments he looked down though, Barty was suspiciously silent.

“Bee?”

He whispered.

“M’awake. You’re just comfy Ev. You’re really good at hugs.”

Might be ‘cause I was built to hold you.

Damn that’s a fucking stupid thing to say. Fuck I’ve turned into Reg whenever he’s around James.

Yeah Evan needed to get over this like fucking yesterday.

•••

Barty breathed in deeply, face buried in the crux of Evan’s neck. He couldn’t help it really. Evan smelled like home. Probably a creepy thing to say, oh well wasn’t like he said it out loud. Evan was home though, plain and simple.

He didn’t want to move, probably ever. Still eventually as the rest of the group came pattering into the kitchen and things got livelier he had to shift away.

•••

They got on the train at noon, ready to head to London. Evan took the window seat watching as the city turned to rolling hills turned to city again. Barty kept sneaking glances over at him, wasn’t really sure what he was looking for honestly but-

“What?”

Evan asked finally, tone irritated.

“Nothing, just bored.”

“Oh um-“

Evan glanced around, he and Barty were in a two seater while the rest of the band sat around the table in front of them, chatting animatedly.

“S’fine Ev, not anything you can do about it, I’m gonna be bored till we get off this bloody train. Fucking buzzing.”

“Excited for tomorrow then yeah?”

Barty turned to him with shining eyes.

“D’you remember when we were eighteen? First time at the O2 for a concert? Fuck d’you remember seeing it like that, covered in all the lights ‘n shit. Eventim Apollo doesn’t even compare.”

Evan chuckled. They’d gone to the O2 for the first time June 2019 to see a concert when Evan was still in his backstreet boys phase, something no one was allowed to talk about now under any circumstances.

“D’you remember what you said to me?”

•••

“Look at that stage Ev. Imagine playing there. For all these people.”

Evan turned to Barty and ruffled his hair.

“One day Bee, we’ll be playing here. I promise you yeah? We’ll be playing here and it’ll all the fucking sold out.”

“You think?”

•••

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

***

AHHH I HOPE U LIKED ITTTT (idk when part 3 will be coming but hopefully soon <333333)

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gvtted-ratz · 9 months ago

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read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

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Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #mdni blog

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fandomrouletteburrito · 3 months ago

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You know what? Im going to vent about how annoyed I am abt bsd atm and put it in the tags bcuz I also want to debate it. I enjoy bsd but I am struggling to understand what exactly Asagiri is trying to do here esp when this arc is so long that the arc itself has mini arcs in it.

If anyone reads this I would love, LOVE to discuss this because I am yanking my hair in frusteration

I am putting it under a cut so that ppl who dont want to see criticism abt bsd dont have to see it

Am i being an asshole? Yes

Am i going to warn ppl before hand and remind them that they can curate their internet experience by simply not reading something that is going to criticize something they love? And the block button exists for a reason???????Also yes

That being said i dont often go off about things i dont like about media i enjoy because well i understand everything i like has pros and cons

Also i still read bsd bcuz there r other things i DO like about it

Anywayssss

The thing that is bothering me about bsd is that I dont think I can tell what any character is doing EVER. Perhaps thats just my taste and I like having some idea of whats going to happen.

The characters arcs are excellent, their actions make sense for the personalities that they have yes.

The problem i do have w bsd is that the characters are apparently constantly always somehow predicting whats going on

How in the goddamn world do you expect me to believe that Fyodor let Dazai see him kill someone through touch so that Dazai would come up w a plan like Mersault? Fyodor didn’t expect Dazai to catch him at the end of the whole virus thing so like how is that enough time for him to find a way to kill that guard by just touching his hand? Why do that unless you planned the Mersault fake death from the start?

I forget but didn’t the Hunting Dogs get Mushitaro to bring up Dazai’s crimes to get Dazai into Mersault? Was this all to get Dazai away from the agency? Extremely likely but that tells me Fyodor planned to fake his death from the star(again) WHICH IN TURN MEANS HE HAD TO HAVE FKING KNOWN SO MUCH AHEAD OF TIME which only makes sense if he had access to some type of future telling ability because some characters actions WERE random eg: below

If Gogol randomly decided to break Fyodor out of Mersault with his race against death game, how can Fyodor expect to be killed by a vampire to become Bram??? How does this make sense if he did not know that Gogol would plan this at all?

There is the panel of Fyodor fallin through the Mersault room correctly as he says its time to escape so maybe he knew Gogol would that? HOW if Gogol just came up with that plan without any of Fyodor’s input?? Alright then maybe he was acting so Dazai won’t catch on but even then how was he expecting to die so that he can become Bram?? What was his alternate plan?

Alright maybe he simply predicted Gogol to do that which I think is a bit sad for Gogol since I think his whole character arc is about how he doesn’t want to be shackled by anything and I would argue being manipulated by someone is a shackle

Criticism 2: the fact absolutely no one of importance has died in bsd manga except for in the light novels(i am including Odasaku in this) please PLEASE correct me if I missed a death

Im not counting Fukuchi as dead because jury’s still out on that given the whole thing w God!Fukuchi/Amenogozen

Esp as we have Dead Apple where whats his names ability outlived him and i think also in 55 minutes

Because well, how do you expect me to take any of the stakes in this manga seriously if no one of name dies ever, I would not have this issue if death wasnt faked out as many times as it has

Maybe Bram will actually stay dead but I doubt it

The fact Kunikida was killed this chapter just tells me that yet again, death is not a serious consequence in this manga. Esp as the book has not been used yet. Even fking HP Lovecraft is alive ffs.

If Kunikida stays dead I will HAPPILY eat my words and state that Asagiri is a master writer for fooling my reading of bsd that well.( i am obviously not saying only my interpretation of bsd is correct so pls dont come at me)

Criticism 3: why didn’t Dazai literally just kill off Fyodor w Chuuya once they got Sigma to get the info from Fyodor

I understand thats a much more author did that because thats what the writing needed and characters are only as intelligent as the story needs so … fineeeee thats on me

Criticism 4: the whole Amenogozen thing about how the war isn’t real

How can Fyodor fake the sign on the wall unless he knew what sign meant world ending to Fukuchi???

Not sure if this is a criticism but if Chuuya was sent by Mori…how did Fyodor expect him to show up? Unless Fyodor and Mori discussed that earlier together in which case Mori is doing an excellent job at pretending like he’s not inleague with Fyodor

This plan of Fyodor’s to become Bram is just so batshit insane and so reliant on people doing random things at the right time eg: Gogol and the death game, Chuuya not being used to kill Fyodor in any form, Sigma not waking up in time to warn the agency, Dazai not fking shooting Fyodor w a gun

Imagine if Gogol’s poison succeeded then well ig Fyodor would just stay in his body since he injected the poison in his own veins which hey doesn’t that mean there was no risk of Fyodor dying in that game? I am likely wrong but it is kinda funny

Unrelated but wow tumblr does NOT want to make writing this on mobile easy bruh

I think the reason I’m so frusterated with this is that bsd is so unpredictable that for me it feels like its going beyond the suspension of disbelief i have

Its breaking the intelligence scale that they set with Fyodor, Dazai and Ranpo that it feels too much to believe

My other issue is I dont know what the whole long term thing w BSD is, and I am a bit tired of that. That might be my personal taste where I like to know what kind of ending or long term things I hope to see in a series but this is a bit too absured for me which might be the point

If anyone reads this entire nonsensical essay you have my respect

#bsd #bsd critical #bsd meta #bsd analysis #dont like dont read #currate your own online experiences yall #i am simply mad #and feel free to butcher my frusteration apart #i WANT ppl to do it #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs manga #bsd manga #bsd light novels #bsd 55 minutes

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