#but this is what I wrote with the prompt so… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

morgana-larkin · 1 day ago

Text

No one asked for this but I wrote it anyway because I can. Obviously it’s based off the line “I’d eat her ass.” I decided to dip my toe into something anal, I never thought about writing anything like that because I personally am not into that. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I have 4 other fics on the go including ‘Mine’ and ‘Worth It’! Also I noticed a couple people requested to have a reader that’s taller than Mel in their prompts, so I’m sorry to everyone that’s taller than Lisa. I am not one of those people as I’m 5’1 which is why I usually write a shorter reader.

Something New

Warnings: Smut, sexual teasing, switch reader and Mel, strap ons, ass eating

Words: 3k

“Thank goodness the volunteers get here today.” Janine says as she fixes her cup of coffee then goes to sit down. “It is so weird how we all fall behind after break when we get back.”

“Yeah, not me, I’m good.” Melissa says and you look at her briefly before going back to your lesson plan.

“I’m actually ahead of schedule.” Barb says proudly and with a smile.

“Well I’m behind.” You say and Melissa looks at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could help you.” She asks.

“Because I don’t need help, I’m good doing it myself.” You tell her and she tilts her head.

“You’re so stubborn.” She says and you roll your eyes.

“You’re one to talk.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“I need help with my vents. Some of the seats are too cold, others too hot. It’s a whole Goldilocks sitch.” You hear Jacob say.

“You know if a girl came into my house and ate my porridge, and slept in my bed, I’m eating her ass.” Melissa says randomly and you all look at her with a shocked and confused face. “To be clear, in this hypothetical, I’m a bear.” She says and you all still give her a weird look. “The animal.” She adds and you burst out laughing. “What are you laughing at?” Melissa asks as she turns to look at you.

Before you get a chance to answer, Ava announces that the volunteers have arrived and you all go to greet them. While on the way there, she wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close.

“So what were you laughing about?” She asks again.

“I’ll tell you after.” You say and then reach the volunteers. You all greet them and then Ava gets them to work after a brief encounter. You and Melissa make your way to her classroom and then she slips her glasses on and starts going through paperwork.

“So what were you laughing about earlier?” She asks and you smirk.

“You.” You simply say and she looks at you.

“What about me?” She asks as she gets up and starts handing out a piece of paper to each desk.

“You said you’d eat a girl’s ass.” You bluntly say as she continues handing out the paper.

“And? I was telling the truth.”

“Oh? So you’re interested in eating ass?” You ask her mischievously and she stops to look at you.

“You know I meant that I would eat a girl whole, because I would be a bear.” She says and you smirk.

“So you’d go to town on an ass? You animal.” You say and she scoffs out.

“Go get ready for your class Y/n.” She says with a shake of her head.

“There’s still 5 minutes left.” You tell her after checking the time and you lean against her desk as you face her as she’s handing out papers. She walks up to you after a few seconds and traps you between her and her desk.

“Get to your class hon.” She says and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. You smile at her before nodding your head.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much.” You tell her and then leave and she chuckles slightly at you.

The bells rings for lunch and you bring your class to the caf before you head to the break room.

“Does anybody else think there’s something seriously off about these volunteers?” Gregory asks as you enter the break room.

“Long morning hon?” Melissa asks as you slump down in your seat and you nod.

“Not only is taking care of first graders tiring, but that Dennis guy, the one who doesn’t show his face on camera, keeps asking me out to this gross bar with like 300 one star reviews.” You tell her and everyone looks at you.

“He what?” Melissa asks and you give her a look that says ‘leave it be’. “Wait, a gross bar in south?” Melissa asks as she has a curious look on her face and you nod. “I knew I knew those schulbs.” She says as she packs the lid on her salad and gets up. “Guys come on.” She says and everyone gets up. “You too Y/n.” She adds and helps you up. “Hey, you guys own that Paddy’s Pub, that’s the skeeviest bar I ever been to.” She says and then Dennis goes to leave but she grabs his arm. “And you, stop asking my girlfriend out.” She says and they all look at Melissa. Dennis immediately nods with a look of fear on his face.

“Melissa, let go of his arm.” You tell her and you have to peel her hand off of his arm. Once she lets go of his arm you have to hold her back with an arm around her waist. “You’ve already told him off, honey.” You tell her and she looks at you and calms down.

Melissa wraps an arm around you for the entire conversation to keep you close to her, and to let other people know you’re claimed. After the conversation, you and Melissa walk back to the break room with you holding hands with her.

“So you got a little jealous over there.” You tell her and she groans.

“Well I can’t have people thinking you don’t belong to me, no matter what.” She says and you smile at her.

“Well maybe you can use some of that jealousy tonight?” You tell her.

“Oh ya, and anything specific that you have in mind?” She asks.

“Well how about we try something that you mentioned earlier?” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow at you.

“And what did I mention earlier?” She asks and you hum.

“Well you mentioned something about eating ass.” You tell her and she whips her head at you.

“I was talking about killing, nothing sexual.”

“I know, still doesn’t mean that my mind didn’t go places.” You say with a smirk and she shakes her head at you.

“You’re really a wonder, you know that?” She says and you giggle as you reach the break room and sit down.

“You haven’t said yes or no.” You tell her and she snorts.

“I’ll think about it.” She says as she continues eating.

“Well, don't take too long.” You tell her and then you take the bite of food off of her fork and she gasps in disbelief.

“Are you always going to take my food?” She asks and you smile.

“I will until you stop me.” You tell her and she sighs.

“Then you’re always going to take my food then.” She says and you smirk.

“So you’re not going to stop me?” You ask and take a tomato and eat it.

“You know I won’t.” She tells you. “I take it as a compliment, you like my food better.” She adds you and she wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh.

“I do like eating something you make better.” You tell her and you hear Barb cough and you see Melissa blushing. You then lean and whisper in her ear. “I love eating all those juices you make.” You pull back and you see her eyes darken. “But yes I do love your food as well.”

“I know, that’s why you always steal my food.” She tells you and then switches her salad with yours. “There, no need to steal it now.” She says and then takes a bite of the food.

“You’re sweet.” You say and then lean in near her ear. “I hope you taste sweet after school.” You say and you hear her breathing hitch before you pull back.

“J-Jacob.” She says and you see Jacob turning around to look at her.

“Ya.” He says and Melissa looks at you before answering him.

“Get lost after school.” She says and Jacob sees you smirking.

“Again? Why can’t you go to Y/n’s place?” He complains with.

“Because I live in an apartment and my neighbours already told me that we were really loud and to keep it down next time.” You tell him and Melissa smiles proudly before taking a bite of your food.

“You can spend the afternoon with me, Jacob.” Janine offers and Jacob nods.

“Thanks.” He says.

You quietly take off a shoe and carefully bring your foot to Melissa’s thigh. Melissa flinches and accidentally hits the leg of the table and you retract your foot immediately as everyone looks.

“You ok Melissa?” Janine asks and Melissa nods before glaring at you, while you just happily eat the salad she gave you, unfazed by her glares anymore.

“I’m fine.” Melissa says. “Just got itchy, moved my leg too far.” She quickly covers and everyone nods before going back to their food.

As you all walk to the caf, she pulls you in close to her. “You played dirty in there.” She tells you and you look at her with a smile.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You tell her innocently.

“What you do to me at work determines what I do to you in bed.” She says and you blush immediately before reaching the caf. “Alright my little eagles, line up in a straight line.” Melissa tells her class and she then glances at you as you’re helping a student pack up their lunch while the others get in a line.

“Ms. Schemmenti?” One student asks her and she looks at them and nods her head. “Why do you always look at Ms. Y/l/n?” They ask her and Melissa feels heat rise to her cheeks at being caught.

“Just making sure she’s ok as we’re friends.” She tells them and sees you looking over with a smile as you heard the conversation.

“Just making sure I’m ok?” You ask her as she’s right across from you.

“Yes, I do that.” She says and you hum as you watch your class walk in the classroom.

“You know I was thinking about something. How would you feel about doing a combined movie together with our classrooms today?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“Why?”

“Well you want to show your class a movie and I need to catch up on work.” You tell her and she thinks about it.

“Alright, sure. Bring them over in an hour.” She tells you and you nod before going back to your classroom.

In an hour you bring your class over with all their stuff and they all sit on the mat or a free chair in the classroom. You brought your chair over and you sit by Melissa as you start catching up on your work. Melissa finishes all of her work 20 minutes into the movie and then she starts helping you with yours. You go to protest but she stops you before you do.

“Don’t even think about saying no.” She says sternly and then you shut your mouth and let her help you. You and Melissa catch up on your work and then you both watch the last 10 minutes of The Incredibles.

Everyone gets their things ready to leave and you both stand outside her class as the students are getting picked up or they walk to the school bus.

“Ready to go home?” She asks as the last student leaves and you nod. She locks up her classroom and then she grabs your hand as you walk to her car. You both put your bags in the backseat and then you wrap your arms around her waist before she goes to the driver’s seat. “Whatcha doing hon?” She asks and you hum before kissing her.

“I’ve had to wait to do that all day.” You complain and she giggles.

“The torture.” She jokes and you nod.

“It is, specially since I’m right across the hall from you.” You tell her and then kiss her again.

“Get a room you dorks.” Ava says as she passes by you both. You both pull away with a smile before getting in the car and she drives you home.

As soon as you take your shoes and jacket off, she excitedly pulls you to her room and you squeeze her ass on the stairs.

She takes your shirt and bra off before pushing you on the bed. She then takes the rest of your clothes off and she looks at you with a smile, as you’re completely bare on her bed. She gets on her knees and pulls you close to the side of the bed.

She dives down to your pussy and starts licking your entrance as you moan out. She then moves up to your clit and sticks two fingers in your entrance. You reach out and grab the back of her head to keep her there. She hums at that and it vibrates on your clit and you buck your hips. She does some hard sucks on your clit and you gasp out.

After a couple minutes you feel your orgasm building and you start grinding her face and you feel her smile. She lets you keep doing that even though it’s occasionally blocking off her air supply. She starts curling her fingers inside of you and you scream out.

“Melissa, I’m so close!” You scream and she gives your clit hard sucks until you come. While coming down from your high, Melissa gets up and flips you on your stomach. “Melissa, what are you- oh my god!” You get cut off as she goes back down on your knees and starts licking your ass.

Some of your juices dripped down to your ass when you came and she had no problem licking all of that up. She keeps your ass cheeks spread open as she keeps licking the hole over and over again. You moan out as the new sensation feels amazing and wonder why you never thought of this before.

“Does this feel good baby?” She asks.

“Yes, keep going.” You tell her quickly and she dives back down.

“Rub your clit baby.” She tells you and you bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing it. You start moving your hips after about 30 seconds as you feel your orgasm building. She then sticks two fingers in your entrance and you scream out. The pleasure from your clit, entrance and ass is overwhelming and you end up coming hard.

You flip onto your back as Melissa gets up and sees you trying to catch your breath. She sits down beside you and you place your head on her lap as she scratches your scalp to help you calm down.

“Why-why are you sti fully dressed?” You ask her after a few seconds.

“Because no one’s taken them off yet.” She says with a smirk. You then sit up and push her down on the bed and she looks up at you and giggles as you immediately take her shirt off and bra off. “Sometimes I think you love my tits more than me.” She jokes and you laugh.

“Maybe equally.” You play along with and she laughs. You place your mouth around a nipple and start sucking. She gasps out and puts her hands in your hair. You feel her rub her thighs together for friction and you smirk. You switch to her other nipple and you undo the button on her jeans and unzip them. You pull away and then get off the bed and then take her pants and underwear off. You go into the nightstand and pull out the harness and dildo and put it on. You get back on top of her and go down to suck her neck. “Now everyone will know you’re claimed.” You tell her as you pull away.

You get on your knees in between her legs and move her hips up slightly and align the dildo with her entrance. You slid it in slowly and she gasps out at the feeling of it filling her up. You bottom out inside of her and you give her a second before you start moving. She starts gasping and moaning like crazy as you start speeding up more and more. She wraps her legs around you and she starts bucking her hips. You pin her down and then start pounding into her. Her legs drop down to the bed as she couldn’t keep them wrapped around you with the pleasure you’re giving her. You placed the dildo in the exact spot where it can rub your clit and you start gasping out as well. You see her grab one of her boobs with her hand and you smirk.

“Rub your clit.” You tell her, just like she did with you. She obeys immediately and starts rubbing her clit and she gasps out.

“Oh god!” She screams out and you can tell she’s about to come.

“I need you to hold it in.” You tell her and she whines. “Just for a bit as I’m close as well, I want you to come with me.” You tell her. Her legs start moving all around and you can tell she’s having difficulty holding it in.

“I can’t hold it anymore.” She cries out.

“Ok, come for me.” You tell her and she lets go immediately and comes hard. You come a few seconds later with a moan and then pull out of her carefully. You take the strap off and then you curl up beside her and places an arm around you.

“You know, I don’t think I can ever let you go.” She says and you look at her.

“And why’s that?” You ask and she smiles before looking at you.

“Cause you always give me one hell of an orgasm.” She says and smirk before giving her a kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #law #x reader #fanfic #abbott elementary

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tpwk-formula1 · 1 day ago

Note

heyy, may i have a gluten-free pizza with red sauce (teammates maybe..?) (rivals since the lower categories, since childhood, mainly because the reader is a woman and would win from liam)

Served by liam lawson

For toppings i'll have: tomatoes, buffalo chicken, gorgonzola and parmesan cheese, meatball, pulled pork, anchovies, sweet onions buratta, fontina, kielbasa and turkey meatballs

For drinking i'll have: coke, sprite, dr pepper, pepsi(r!receiving), diet pepsi, white claw, truly, vodka redbull, and mojitoooo (liam doesn't know) (its female!reader by the way)

Yes for dessert!!

I know it's a lot, so you can use just a few of then, i sent several just so you could choose whatever you'd like!!

Feel free to decline if you do not like what I have suggested!

(Sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language!)

-🐝

Liam Lawson x Fem!reader

AN: I definitely went a little off script and I also had to take a few of the prompts out otherwise the entire dialogue would be the prompts or it would be VERY long... I did my best to involved as many of the kinks as I could and I kept the general Virgin! reader thoughts!

I in good faith could not have Liam roughly fucking a girl who is a virgin who is clearly not enjoying herself sobbing, so I did kind of change that part!

TW: protected sex, rough, toys, multiple orgasms, slight spanking, rivals

WC: 2.2K

gluten free rivals red sauce rough sex tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" buffalo chicken "Such a fucking crybaby, just fucking take it all" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" parmesan "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" meatball "Why do you always have to complain?" pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" anchovies "How are you already drenched" sweet onions "Are you done complaining?" buratta "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" fontina "wipe that fucking smirk off your face" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" turkey meatballs “Stop crying, I’m far from done” coke spanking sprite size kink dr pepper dirty talk pepsi oral kink diet pepsi biting white claw crying truly belly bulge vodka red bull squirting mojito loss of virginity dessert yes served by Liam Lawson

Y/N POV

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I hear Liam ask as I'm walking out of my first official Redbull meeting. After Max announced he was expecting his first child Christian Horner called me up and we started talking about the possibility of me joining the team sooner than planned.

"Lawson, what the fuck are you complaing about now?" I sign turning my full attention to the blond man in front of me.

"Are you kidding me? You're my new fucking teammate and I find out with the rest of the world? Why didn't you tell me?" He asks making me laugh slightly.

"Lawson, I've been driving with RB for the past two years, I feel like you could have used your brain to realize I was probably gonna be the replacement," I say with an eye roll.

"God, you always have the worst fucking attitude," Liam says with an eye roll making me shake my head.

"Are you done complaining? Cause last I checked I have never and will never owe you jack shit. Next time redirect your pissy attitude to someone who gives a fuck." I say with a finale tone before walking towards my car.

It's only been a few days when I hear a knock at my hotel door. The whole Red Bull team was staying near the factory due to the season being so close and needing to make sure we where all accessable at any moment.

When I open the door I see the last person I'm expecting to see.

"What do you need Lawson?" I question while keeping the door mostly closed.

"You haven't been answering the group chat so Christian wanted me to check in on you and make sure you settled in okay," Liam tells me with a straight voice.

"Well, you see me. I'm clearly fine," I saw while trying to close the door but Liam being the pest that he is pushes it open.

Given I was staying in a standard hotel room not feeling the need to have some massive penthouse for a hotel room I know it takes Liam little to no time to see the vibrator sitting on my bed.

"Oh! This is what you've been doing. I'll be sure to report back to Christian," Liam says laughing with a smirk while eyeing the pink vibrator.

"Liam, please," I say why trying to push the door closed. While I may be stronger than the average 5'9 man Liam being an athlete on the same workout plan as me was no match. Liam happily invites himself into my room making his way towards my bed with a smirk plastered on his face.

I just groan and close the door before anyone who could be in the hallway can see Red Bulls newest drivers fights.

"Liam, wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I slap you," I say calmly but with a bitter undertone. I watch Liam turn slowly towards me before walking towards me. Like a scene out of any movie I start backing up until my back hits the door.

"Liam, this is by far one of the most embassiring moments of my life, I would like for it to end sooner rather than later," I say weakly.

"Oh come on sweetheart, if you need to cum so bad let me help you," Liam says with a smirk making my face completely fall.

"Wh-what?" I ask in a soft stutter.

"Oh, please. Don't act like you've never thought about this. How good all our tension could be between the sheets," Liam whispers softly into the shell of my ear making my breath hitch slightly.

"Liam, this is so weird," I say in a matching whisper before laughing softly at the whole situation. I notice sometime in my soft laughing fit my hands landed on Liam's sides and my fingers where softly pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

"Sorry," I say softly pulling hands away which only has Liam grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them against the door.

"Tell me to stop," Liam says with his mouth hovering over mine. I just stare up into his eyes before letting them drop to his lips. He's impossible close and while I thought I hated him, I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my entire life.

"Goddamn it Y/N tell me to fucking stop!" Liam says this time in a bit of a louder and firmer voice making me clench my thighs a bit tighter.

"No," I reply softly and not a second later Liam's lips were on mine in a bruising force.

"Fuck," I whimper out when Liam pulls away to catch our breathes.

"Come on," Liam says roughly pulling my body towards him and dragging me towards the bed.

"I bet I can make you cum better than this stupid thing," Liam says with a scoff falling from his lips.

Liam has me pushed onto the bed spreading my legs where he can finally see this whole time I was just in a large shirt clearly having been thrown on in a hurry to try and cover what I had previously been doing.

I can feel Liam's eyes racking my body and while normally it was make me uncomfortable being seen in such a compromising position under Liam's gaxe I can't help but feel slightly giddy.

"But first, I'm gonna remind you what cumming from this feels like," Liam says flipping the vibrator on and wasting no time in placing it on my already throbbing clit.

"Oh fuck," I whimper throwing my head back and arching slightly. I don't think my vibrator has ever felt this good and I know he's still only on the first speed setting.

Liam hits the + bottom a few times turning the speed up making me cry out even louder.

"Fuck! Liam slow it down!" I cry feeling my orgasm building up at an embarrassingly fast pace.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Liam asks with venom laced in his voice only making me whimper loudly.

Liam could tell I was close based on how loud I was getting which had him turning up the speed to full Max throwing me over the edge within moments.

"Shit! Fuck, Liam!" I cry out while continuing to feel wave after wave of my orgasm.

Liam wastes no time pulling the vibe off my clit, turning it off and throwing it somewhere in the room. Without giving me a second to come down from my previous orgasm he's attached his mouth to my clit while slipping a finger into my pussy.

"Fuck," I moan letting my eyes grow wide feeling myself be filled by just about anything for the first time. Liam picked up on my change and quickly pulled his mouth and fingers away from my soaked pussy.

"What? What happened? Are you okay?" Liam asks quickly searching my eyes for answers. I can feel my cheeks heat realize that I was going to have to be honest.

"I-uh shit, okay I've never done anything like this," I say softly hoping Liam picks up what I was putting down.

"Y/N what? You mean to tell me you've never been touched by a man?" Liam asks looking at me with a raised brow but I can still see a faint smirk playing on his lips. I shake my head too embarrassed to speak.

"I wish you would have said something, I would have came with a bit of a different approach," Liam admits clearly slightly embarrassed with himself.

"No! I'm a big girl, I would have told you no if I wanted you to stop, I liked it, and I liked when you started fingering me, it was just a new sensation," I sit up slightly trying to reassure him.

"Fuck, you're something else," Liam says slightly with a small laugh falling from his lips. I bring my hands up to his face pulling him in for another kiss.

"Don't change whatever plan you had for me," I mumble against his lips making a small chuckle leave his lips.

"I don't plan on it," Liam says while flipping me over by my hips and pulling me so I'm on all fours.

When I feel the slap land on my ass I can't help the loud whimper I let out.

"Ow! Liam!" I cry out only making him spank my ass again.

"That hurts Lawson," I say while trying to wiggle my hips away making him pull me back exactly where he wants me.

"Awe, did that hurts? Tuff cause I'm gonna do it again," Liam says before landing another slap on my ass.

I brace myself for another slap but I'm not prepared for him slipping his fingers into my drenched pussy making me whimper at the feeling once again.

When he finds my G-spot I instantly see stars making me grip the comforter tighter between my fingers.

"Fuck Liam," I moan feeling my tears start to streak down my face from the overwhelming feeling.

"I'm close," I moan out weakly.

"I can tell, cum for me," Liam says fingering me harder making me instantly let go and start squirting all over the bed.

"Oh fuck," I moan loudly while Liam continues to finger me through my orgasm.

"Holy shit, so fucking hot," Liam groans while I feel him stripping the rest of his clothes before he's flipping me back to my back so I'm facing him.

When I notice his pale chest I can't help but let my eyes fall down to his already hard and leaking cock.

"Fuck, I take it back, please go slow," I tell Liam when I notice his size is massive and far thicker than I ever thought was possible.

"I was planning on it," Liam says with a small chuckle.

"Do you have any protection?" I ask softly making Liam laugh before climbing off the bed to find his pants.

"I almost am always carrying one," Liam admits with his cheeks reddening in a blush.

"Slutty," I tease with a small lip falling from my lips.

Once the condom was rolled on Liam climbed back into bed and leans down pulling me in for another kiss.

While we are making out I barely notice Liam's tip teasing my clit but the second he starts pushing into me the grip I had on his shoulders only tightens while I whine into his mouth.

"God damn it! You're so fucking tight," Liam grunts as he slowly pushes into my pussy making me try to relax as much as possible.

Once he has fully filled my pussy he sits back slightly letting me adjust to his size.

"Move, please," I whimper slightly making Liam pulls back his hips just a little before slowly pushing back into me. He continued to slowly fucking my pussy allowing me to fully adjust to his thick size.

"Fuck, faster," I moan when the slight pain had turned fully into pleasure.

Liam starts fucking me at a bit of a faster pace making me arch my back and moan loudly feeling the most amount of pleasure I've ever had.

"Fuck so good," I moan out feeling the tears start once again making Liam look down and smirk at me.

"Fucking you so good you're crying," Liam says with a smirk speeding his thrusts up more making me see stars from how good he was fucking me.

"Fuck, harder," I moan letting my nails dig into the skin of his back leaving scratches behind.

Liam's thrusts pick up in pace and become harder making me feel my orgasm start to build once again.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out once again.

"Cum for me, I'm fucking close," Liam groans leaning down and pulling in for another kiss and while he pulls away he slightly bites my lip, making me moan at the feeling.

I start cumming for a third time tonight triggering Liam to start cumming and filling up the cum.

"Fuck," Liam grunts as he sends one final thrust deep into my pussy.

Once we've both come down from our highs he softly slips out of my pussy before climbing out of bed. When he heads into the connected bathroom making me sit up slightly feeling the soreness already.

When I successfully make it into the bathroom I find Liam wetting a warm washcloth.

"Y/N what are you doing? I was coming back for you," Liam tells me with a soft smile while he approaches me quickly lifting me in his arms before he sets me down on the counter.

"You did good," Liam tells me while he softly starts wiping my body with the rag while he plants soft kisses on my shoulders.

"You were mid," I tease making Liam look up at me with a smirk.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," I saying rolling my eyes while taking a teasing swat at his cheek barely even grazing his skin before I grip his chin between my fingers and pull him in for another kiss.

"I still hate you," I say between kisses.

"You don't," Likam replies back with a small laugh.

Liam pulls me into his arms and carries me back in bed. Before he lays me on the bed he notices the soaked sheets.

"We're staying in my room," Liam whispers against my lips before helping me get dressed and helping me walk across the hall given my Shakey legs.

"Round 2?" I tease making Liam laugh and shake his head... We did end up having round 2.

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 days ago

Text

I See You As You Are - Pt2

aemond x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You continue to write letters to Aemond in hopes that it’ll help you both continue to open up. You both begin to spend more time together and start to have a deeper understanding of one another.

Warnings: mention of wine besides that nothing

Authors Note: i’m so fkn soft for this story idek what to say im just like *clenches fist* like cute/love/adoration aggression

Word Count: 5.1k

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You sit in your chambers looking at the blank parchment before you and the ink slowly dripping from your quill. You don’t know how to talk to Aemond but you want to desperately. The past couple of days have felt as if you both are on the tipping point of an actual betrothal and you want for it so badly. You shake your head and begin to press the ink to the paper.

Aemond,

I wish to spend more time with you. I have no care for what we do. I’ll come watch you train. Anything. I would like to get to speak with you more often, if you’ll allow.

I asked the maesters for your favorite book. I’m half way through the accounts of the conquest. I think I would quite like to see Vhagar in all her glory.

Please write back.

Or come to me.

Or if I’m truly just desperate and out of line, disregard this.

You roll the parchment to get the words out of your sight before you lose your nerve. After the wax dries you open your door and with a couple hushed words you send your guard to deliver it to Aemond. You click the door shut and run over to your bed to bury your head in the pillows trying to think of anything else than your letter.

ᓚᘏᗢ

Aemond marks his page before gently closing the old book. He walks over to his door and squints his eye when he sees your guard. He offers him a roll saying it’s from you before disappearing back down the hall. Why would you send him a letter if you’re staying a couple halls away? He sighs, sitting back at his table and uncurling the parchment.

His heart beats rapidly as he reads over your words. He reads it over another time before setting it on the table and staring at the wall. He picks it up once more to memorize each word. Desperate? For his company? You’ve read a history book to have a conversation with him? He shakes his head and rises from the chair. He takes your parchment and places it in the side table with the others and stalks out his door. Within a minute he’s knocking at your door and you’re opening it looking up at him as if you got caught.

“You want to spend time with me?” his tone more accusatory, trying to confirm you truly wrote this parchment. “Talk with me?” you blink up at him already at a loss for words when him showing up was the best scenario for you.

“I would.” you nod once.

“Why are you reading my favorite book?” he questions and surprising to both of you, you keep his eye contact and don’t shrink.

“What book a person favors is very telling.” he hums at your response.

“And watching me train?” he watches a small smile form on your face. You wonder if he’s going to inquire about every single thing you said in the parchment.

“Others tell me if you’re not in the library you’re training. I guess I’d like to see if you’re any good.” his eye widens at your teasing tone as you chew your cheek.

“Did these others not tell you if I was any good?” he prompts.

“I’d like to see for myself.” you start to lean against your doorframe.

“Just as you would like to see Vhagar?” you nod quickly.

“I think I would like to see her most.” he studies your face and only finds your relaxed features and soft smile. “Was there anything else you wanted to confirm that I wrote?” you tilt your head watching the smallest smile form on his lips.

“In your first letter you said that you looked forward to meeting me.” you wait for him to continue but he looks down at you expectantly.

“I did.” you nod.

“But when you first saw me you looked away. We’ve barely shared a conversation.” he shakes his head.

“That is hardly my fault alone.” you shift on your feet and move to lean on your door. “Might we go for a walk or sit in the gardens to talk? I tire of standing in the doorway.” he squints his eye at you and nods once.

“Very well.” he watches you look over your skirts and smooth them before stepping out into the hall to close your door. “Would you like to hold onto my arm?” the smile that spreads across your face causes his chest to tighten.

“Are you only going to ask me questions?” you link your arm with his and he reminds himself to breathe as he walks you down the hall.

“Do my questions bother you?” he looks down at you.

“Maybe I have questions of my own.” he hums at your response and guides you down the stairs.

“Then ask.” he pushes the doors to the Keep open.

“Can I see Vhagar?” he looks down at you with a raised brow.

“We’ll see.” he purses his lips. “Maybe once you’re done with the book so you can truly appreciate her.” he nods his head.

“I appreciate her now. She’s your dragon.” you bring your other hand up to pat his arm. “How did you come across her? How is it that you two bonded?” he studies your face.

“It’s not that exciting of a story.” he turns his attention ahead as he leads you into the gardens.

“Aemond.” he turns to you at the sound of his name. “Not that exciting of a story?” you scoff. “My Gods you claimed the oldest living dragon. She helped conquer the seven kingdoms.” you scrunch your brows up at him.

“Would you like to sit?” he slows as you near a table.

“I would.” you smile. “And to hear all about you and Vhagar.” he pulls out your chair for you and before taking the seat across from you.

“I was ten and foolish.” he pauses as a servant approaches with pitchers of water and wine before disappearing.

“Go on.” you prompt.

“Her rider had recently fallen. I..” he takes a sip from his cup. “I will admit it was poor timing but I had wanted for a dragon so badly.” he clears his throat, shaking his head. “I had heard Vhagar and went after her. I had decided then I would have Vhagar or I would forfeit my life than go another day without a dragon. So I went up to her.” he nods his head.

“All on your own?” you lean across the table with wide eyes.

“I didn’t have anyone else to go with me. No matter,” he shakes his head. “I approached her and by some miracle she had accepted me.” he looks over your face spread with wonder.

“You are so very brave. Only ten.” you shake your head looking over him. “Do you celebrate every year?” his eye snaps to yours.

“No.” he’s quick to respond.

“Why not?” you scrunch your brows. “That is a major accomplishment.” you notice his fingers start to tap against the table.

“The way the night ended..” he clenches his jaw. “It’s nothing that causes for celebration. It’s just another day.” his hands slowly turn into fists and you tilt your head.

“What happened?” you reach across the table for his hand and he watches as you grab onto him.

“No.” he shakes his head. “We can talk about something else.” he swallows and meets your eyes once more.

“I’ve been told you’re our best sword.” a small smile spreads across his face. “Is there any merit to that?” you hear the smallest chuckle come from him and the sound warms your chest.

“Better than most.” he offers you a small nod.

“Do you train often?” you let go of his hand and he almost reaches out to bring you back.

“Daily.” he grabs his cup to occupy his hands.

“I would like to see you train. I’ll come with tomorrow.” you smile and his heart starts to beat faster.

“You might get bored.” you roll your eyes at him.

“Then I’ll bring a book. Mm,” you hum smiling at him. “I’ll read about Vhagar while her new rider trains before me. You’re like living history.” you watch as his neck softly flushes and he leans back.

“You’re that desperate to spend time with me?” your eyes widen at his words.

“Was that a jest? Have I been hand blessed by the Gods today?” a smile splits across your face as you watch a small one form on his. “But yes, Aemond. Is it a crime that your betrothed would like to be with you?” you nibble your lip.

“It’s before breakfast.” he offers you another out, still unbelieving how this conversation has gone.

“I can wake whenever you need me to.” you nod.

“Then I will see to it that they have a chair brought out for you.” his chest fills at the thought of you watching him.

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For the past week you have woken just before dawn to walk with Aemond in the gardens before watching him train. He enjoys how you curl into his side from the morning chill and how you rest your head on his arm as you both bask in the early morning silence. After your walk he leads you to the training yard and has a chair brought out for you. Once he confirms you have everything you could need he reluctantly leaves your side for his blade.

You watch him in silent awe at how smooth and determined each swipe of his blade is. The way his hair moves as he dodges puts you in a trance. Sometimes when you watch him train you can’t imagine how this deadly man in front of you is the same man who silently blushes when you ask him about his day. You open the history book on your lap and smile that you’re finally on the last two chapters.

As you finish the accounts you look up and see Aemond raining his sword down upon his opponent. You close the book and lean back to watch him move around the man as a relentless storm. The tip of his blade waits at the man’s throat waiting for him to yield. The man toss’s his sword down and you see Aemond sneer at the man before he turns his attention to you. His face immediately softens as he leaves the man and walks over to you.

“How is your book?” he comes to stand over you.

“I’ve finished.” you smile up at him. “How was training? I think you did very well.” your eyes widen when his knuckles brush against your cheek.

“Thank you.” you nod up at him with a blush. “Did you enjoy the book?” he hums and you nod again. “What would you like to do today?” he brushes your hair back before moving his hand away.

“I wish to meet her. If I can. I’d like to know more about dragons but almost all of the books on them are in Valyrian.” he takes the book from your lap and offers you his arm.

“I could read them for you.” your head snaps up to his.

“Really?” you smile and he nods his head.

“I’ll call for a carriage while we return this book.” you tilt your head.

“Where are we going?” you scrunch your brows.

“To see Vhagar.” he watches you smile before you lean against him once more.

The silence that you two share when walking is now comfortable and relaxed. As you lean against him you smile thinking about him reading to you. When the two of you step into the library he hands the maester the book and requests another book be brought to his chambers while he’s out. Aemond begins to lead you back out to the main courtyard imagining your face when you finally get to see Vhagar.

“I wish to hear you speak Valyrian.” he looks down at your sudden request.

“Why?” he watches your cheeks flush.

“Because I would like to.” you raise your chin and watch a smile form on his face.

“Little do you know I would do anything you ask of me. Whatever you desire.” you’ve never so badly wanted to speak another language than you do right now.

“You have such a beautiful voice.” you whisper. “What did you say?” he is thankful the carriage is here to conceal his flush that you always seem to bring forth.

“My deepest secret.” you pout at his words as the carriage starts through the city. “And no I won’t be sharing it with you.”

“Not even if I ask very nicely?” you push your bottom lip out.

“Not even then.” he shakes his head with a small smile.

The rest of the carriage ride consists of you asking questions about the city and trying to get him to tell you what he said but his mind is too sharp. He chuckles at your attempts and watches you with a relaxed smile. You lean forward in your seat when you reach the city gates as the carriage comes to a stop. Aemond helps you out and escorts you through the gates. You look around feeling as if you should be able to see Vhagar by now given how large she’s been described.

“Come.” Aemond nods for you to follow him and you walk behind him with tentative steps.

As you come to his side you feel the ground softly rumble as a pile of leaves begins to move. Your eyes widen as Vhagar’s head begins to lift and you have to crane your neck to take her in. You step closer to Aemond and grab onto his arm. He watches you look up at his dragon in awe and waits for you to speak.

“She is absolutely spectacular. Better than I’ve ever imagined.” you shake your head still looking up at her. “And you were ten? Just a boy.” you turn your attention to him. “You were so brave. I believe it’s a day to celebrate, Aemond.” you nod. “I’m sure Vhagar would share my sentiment.” you turn back to the massive dragon with a grin.

“I’m sure you both would torment me with celebrations every year if she could speak with you.” he chuckles at the thought. “Would you like to get closer?” you nod your head quickly. He leads you closer and as you walk near her stomach you lean closer into Aemond as you’re suddenly surrounded by a dragon. “You’re okay.” his soft words help your shoulders to relax.

“Can you tell her I think she’s utterly amazing.” Aemond stops you both a couple feet away from her.

“You’re stealing my betrotheds attention from me.” Vhagar lets out a small chuff before resting her head back on the earth.

“I’m speechless, Aemond.” you shake your head, turning your head and trailing it along the length of Vhagar. “I just..” you turn to him. “You amaze me.” you bring your hand up to his chest. “I feel so very lucky to be betrothed to you.” you look up at him.

“You don’t have to say those things.” he shakes his head.

“I mean it. Truthfully.” you move your hand from his chest up to his cheek and his eye widens. “You are so smart and skilled. You are very hands-

“Stop.” he grabs your wrist and he curses himself as your face falls.

“Why?” you whisper searching his face.

“I’m not handsome. I don’t want you to lie to me.” he pulls your hand away.

“I’m not lying to you.” you shake your head. “I think you are very handsome.” you watch his jaw clench.

“That is because you haven’t seen me as I am.” he watches your brow furrow.

“I see you as you are.” you shake your head.

“But you don’t.” he steps back. “Not truly.” he watches confusion pass across your face.

“Then show me. I will not leave your side.” you step closer. “Not because it’s my duty but because I quite like being at your side.” he doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve you. He doesn’t deserve you or your soft words. “You asked why I couldn't look at you or talk to you when I first met you.” his eye snaps to yours.

“I did.” he nods.

“It’s because I was so intimidated by you. You’re like a Prince plucked from one of my books. But then you had looked so disappointed when you first saw me.” you chew your lip, shaking your head. “I didn’t feel good enough for you. I still don’t..” you shrug and he grabs your arm. “But I like that you’re intimidating because when we walk through the halls everyone leaves us alone. And to tell you one of my secrets.” you look up at his red face with a soft smile. “I like to lean against you so I can feel your muscles flexing.” he stares down at you at a loss for what to say.

“You are more than I deserve.” his words hushed.

“I feel the same way about you.” your soft tone matches his.

“No.” he shakes his head. “You deserve so much better than me. I’m not..” he looks away from you and you frown seeing his expression.

“I would like to hug you.” his head turns back to you quickly.

“I will not have your pity.” he regrets his tone the instant the words come out.

“It’s not pity I offer you but comfort, Aemond.” you step closer and he calculates your every move.

“I do not require comfort.” his eye bores into yours.

“Then might I just have a hug because I desire one.” you smile up at him softly watching his face flash with different emotions. He nods once and watches you take another small step. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest waiting for him to wrap his arms around you. “Do you wish for me to let go?” you keep your eyes shut as you hold him tighter.

“Not until you are content.” he watches as you cling to him while he keeps his hands at his sides.

“I would be even more content if you would hug me back.” you chew your lip hoping he doesn’t push you off.

“Very well.” he slowly wraps his arms around you and stiffens when you hold him closer. “Do you feel,” he flares his nostrils unsure of what to say or do or even feel. “Content or comforted? Should I do something more?” he feels you start to lean back and he pulls you back against his chest not wanting you to see his flush.

“No, you’re hugging me very well, Aemond.” he hears you softly chuckle. “I feel very comforted.” you take a step closer and he moves one of his hands up to the back of your head. “Even more comforted now.” you inhale deeply.

“As do I.” his words so soft you barely catch them. “Thank you.” he furrows his brows as he continues to hold you.

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Aemond has barely had his eye open for ten minutes before there is a soft knock on his door. His guard places a small rolled parchment in his hand and he shuts the door quickly. Why had you sent him another parchment? He lights a candle and brings it over to his table before he unrolls your woods.

Aemond,

I had hoped instead of our morning walk you could begin reading to me about the dragons.

We could still go to the gardens.

Or maybe you could finally show me around the libraries. I only know one section and I’d like to see your favorite sections.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

He reads through your letter again and walks it over to his side table and places it in there with the others. He walks to his wardrobe and pulls his clothing out for the day. He tries not to think of the first time he showed you the library, if he could even call it that. He has no idea why you still want to spend so much time with him and he’s waiting for you to realize you find him no longer worth your time.

He quickly dresses and grabs the book he had the maester pull for you both. He debates on leaving it not wanting to look too eager. His hand rests on it in silent question before scooping it up and walking with it to his door. He stops before the door and sets the book on the table and grabs the handle. He sighs and grabs the book again before leaving his chambers with the book and making his way to your chambers. When he turns into your hall you’re walking towards him with your guard behind you.

“Where are you going?” he looks down at you and places the book behind him.

“You’re later than normal. I was coming to make sure you weren’t ill.” you let your eyes look over him searching for anything out of place.

“I’m well.” he nods. “I have a book for us.” he pulls the book out and you take it into your hands. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” you grab onto his arm and start to pull him down the hall.

“No need to apologize.” you hum and he looks down at you holding onto him and the book tightly.

“Where are you taking me this morning?” a small smile settles onto his face.

“I’ve decided I want you to show me the library.” you hum leading him down the stairs.

As the both of you make it to the bottom of the stairs he feels you step closer. You look up to him as he pulls you closer and whisper a small thanks. The halls are still mostly barren at this hour but he tells himself he wants to keep you close to keep the chill at bay. He pushes open the doors to the library and smiles as you pull him towards the stairs.

“I wish to show you a section on this floor.” he hums softly and you turn to him. “These are mostly in Valyrian but this is my preferred place to be in here.” he leads you to an alcove behind the stairs. “You are of course welcome back here whenever you please.” he nods, watching you take a seat in his chair.

“Is this where you would like to read today?” you pull the book onto your lap.

“I would like to show you around first. If that’s alright. I..” he shakes his head. “I have thought a lot on the day we first met and I have many regrets.” he furrows his brows.

“You’re not alone in that thought.” you reach for his hand. “But no matter. We’ve figured it out now.” he watches a smile form on your face as you start to rub your thumb against his hand.

“May I show you the library?” you nod and move your hand to his arm as he begins to lead you around the different sections.You can’t believe how grand the libraries truly are, it houses more books than you have ever seen.

“It would take me at least ten lifetimes to read through all of this.” you shake your head, looking at all of the shelves surrounding the both of you.

“We could share the burden and only make it five lifetimes.” he watches a flush rise up your neck.

“Reading and reading with you is no burden to me.” you squeeze his arm.

“Show me the section you’ve started in.” he nods at you and you lead him up the stairs.

“I like to sit in this chair by the window.” you smile as you pull him over to the chair. “They bring me candles and tea. I stayed here for many of my first days here.” his hand slightly tugs on your arm and you turn to him. “Ye-

“I’m sorry for how I acted.” he looks down at you intensely. “I was foolish to ignore you. I regret it immensely.” he shakes his head at himself.

“Regret it no longer.” you reach up and grab his face. “It is in the past. We are here now. Together.” you nod your head with a smile.

He brings his hand to yours on his face and closes his eye. Your touch is so soft, he never imagined to find this type of gentleness in his life. He leans his head slightly into your warmth and you bring your other hand up to his other cheek and he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you.

“I do not deserve you.” he sighs, bringing his hands to yours and pulling them away.

“What does that mean?” you blink up at him.

“I do not deserve you.” his words put a frown on your face. You step forwards and pull him into a fierce hug. He looks down at you when you squeeze him tighter. “I certainly don’t deserve this hug.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you.

“This hug is self indulgent.” you whisper into his jerkin. “I don’t like hearing you talk so lowly about yourself.” you look up at him.

“Then I will refrain from doing so in front of you.” he brushes your hair back.

“That’s not what I meant. I wish for you to be open with me.” you nod your head. “I don't want you to feel undeserving of gentleness and love.” he looks down at you with such raw emotion and he pulls you back against him in a tight embrace before pulling back and offering you his arm once more.

“May I show you the rest of this floor?” you nod and grab onto his arm. He begins to lead you into another section. You steal glances at him as he shows you some of his favorite books and talks lowly before continuing your walk through the library.

“We should start towards the training yard.” you hum looking out the window at the rising sun. “We will be late.” you turn and look up at him.

“I can go a morning without training to show you the library.” he nods.

“I enjoy watching you train.” you chew your lip trying to hide your smile.

“Is that so?” he smiles when he sees your cheeks flush.

“It is.” you nod with a small smile.

“Have you decided if there is any merit to what the others have told you about me?” he raises his brows.

“I think you are indeed our best sword. No question.” you nod again. “Maybe the best sword in the realm.” he rolls his eye at your words. “I mean it.” you purse your lips.

“Is the best sword in the realm allowed to take the morning to spend with his betrothed?” you grin at his words.

“I suppose you could miss one morning.” you chew on your lip.

“What would you like to do?” he runs his fingers down your jaw and he hums as you tilt your head up. “Would you like me to start reading to you?” he chuckles watching you blink up at him.

“Anything.” you whisper, enjoying Aemonds soft touch.

“Would you like to sit in your section?” he watches your flush deepen.

“I want to go to yours.” he nods and offers you his arm. You smile and grab onto his arm and he starts to lead you back down the stairs.

“Pick any chair you want.” he scoots you into the open space and watches you claim his seat once more. “I’ll call for tea.” he nods and turns to find a servant.

You rise and begin to light some of the candles and when he turns he finds you illuminated in a warm glow in his chair. He comes to sit in the chair next to yours and lifts the book off the table. He opens it and watches as a servant comes in and leaves tea for you both while you offer a soft thanks. Aemond looks at the book and then at you truly wondering if you want to hear these accounts.

“We could read something else. Accounts can get exhausting.” he splays his hand across the page.

“I know nothing of dragons and I’m very interested.” you look at him. “If you don’t wish to reread these books I would be grateful for any knowledge you’d wish to share.” he studies your face. “But I would still like it if we could read a book together. Any book you please.” you bring your hands together in your lap.

“I’ll start with this one but you can change your mind whenever you want.” he turns to the first page.

You pick your tea up and curl into the chair, listening to his soft words. You watch him unabashedly as his finger traces the page before he turns it to continue reading. When he finishes the first chapter he looks up at you and finds you already looking at him. He looks over your relaxed state with your knees curled under you and your cup of tea in your lap.

“I think you are very beautiful.” he looks at you, unable to stop the words from leaving his lips.

“Thank you.” you look away as your cheeks flush.

“Do you want me to keep reading this book or shall I find us another?” you slowly bring your gaze back to him.

“I enjoy this one. Truthfully.” you nod. “Do you want to keep reading this book?” you nibble your lip.

“I do. I just don’t want to bore you.” he looks down at the book.

“I’m very happy and content with what we’re doing.” you watch his eye snap up to you. “I enjoy my time with you no matter what we do.” you take a sip of your tea.

He nods once and clears his throat before starting on the next chapter. You recline back and listen as he speaks to you of the great beings that command the skies and the riders atop them.

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masterlist 🔌

ur honor i love him

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10

#im actually in love w this fic #so i think aemond just needs a hug #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond one eye

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thereadingchallengechallenge · 2 days ago

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some prompts for TRCC Readathon 2025!

last time i ran a readathon, I wrote a short list of prompts for anyone who wanted to use them so here's this round's list 🥰

read a book about a disabled character

read a children's book

read a nonfiction book

read a book by an Asian author

read a book set during winter

can't wait to see what y'all find to match these!

edit: oops shoulda put event dates in here 😅

TRCC Readathon 2025 starts January 15th in your time zone and runs until the end of January 21st 🧡

#trcc readathon #trcc original #booklr #bookblr

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ofmdrecaps · 14 hours ago

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01/09-10/2025 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; OFMD Cancellation Anniversary; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Con O'Neill; Vico Ortiz; Samba Schutte; Kristen Johnston; Andy Rydzewski ; Additional Cast & Crew in LA Status; LA Fire Resources; Charity Raffle!; Love Notes; Daily Daby / Today's Taika;

Hey Crew sorry I'm behind again. With the fires happening my job is very busy and I'm a bit exhausted. Will try to catch up as much as I can tonight!

== OFMD Cancellation Anniversary ==

January 9th was the 1 year cancellation anniversary of our first cancellation of Season 3. So many of you folks shared some wonderful feelings and memories you had that day and since that day. It was an anniversary full of melancholy, but it was also lovely to see how much people got out of the fandom since then. Our friends over at @adoptourcrew also sent out some prompts to help us reflect about OFMD an what it means to us! Did you get a chance to share your thoughts?

Src: Adopt Our Crew Blusky

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

Chaos Dad has some not so great news, our Director of Photography, Mike Berlucchi lost his home in the Altadena fire. If you're interested in helping/have the capacity, you can do so at his families Go Fund me Page: https://gofund.me/01f98349

By the time this was posted, the donation goal has been met and then some! Well done Crew! Thank you for giving back to the folks who made our show so wonderful in their time of need!

David also shared the go fund me for another friend and sent love our way when @summerlinenss cross posted it on bsky <3. If you would like to/have the capacity, you can donate to Jamie & Carolyn here.

And more love from David

Source: David Jenkins Bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Folks have asked how LA folks are doing and Rhys and family are currently in AONZ so they are safe (sorry to clarify I wrote this on the 9th, they are now back in LA and also safe) ! We've also heard that the Darby family animals and house is still okay! In other news Rhys was interviewed on TheProject!

Source: Rhys Instagram Stories

Check out the full interview on Youtube! on Friday!

There's More BadJellyTV with Rhys clips!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Badjelly (@badjellytv)

instagram

Source: Rhys' Instagram

= Con O'Neill =

Radio Times wrote an article about the cast involved in SAS Rogue Heroes with a fabulous shot of our Izzy as General Montgomery! Radio Times Article

Source: Radio Times

= Vico Ortiz =

More OFMD S2 BTS! This time featuring Archie, Olu and Jim! Check it out over at Vico's Paid Patreon!

Source: Vico's Paid Patreon

= Samba Schutte =

Samba shared a video of him (and his wife Aria!) in a skit with Jean Claude Van Damme!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Samba Schutte (@sambaschutte)

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Source: Samba's Instagram

Also, Samba and Aria's kiddo turned one!

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Kristen Johnston =

Our dear Widow Evelyn sent us some puppy pictures to boost morale with the fires going on!

Source: Kristen Johnston's bsky

= Andy Rydzewski =

One of our Cinematographers, Andy Rydzewski is evacuated and safe from the LA Fires! So glad to hear it.

Source: Andy's Instagram

== Additional Cast & Crew in LA Status ==

Samba and Family Seem to be safe, no reporting of issues Dominic Burgess - Safe so far Damien Gerard - Safe so far Lindsey Cantrell - Safe so far

== LA Fire Resources ==

A lot of the cast & crew have been sharing LA Fire Resources on Instagram and Lindsey's been really active so I wanted to share something that I didn't realize (and I'm in the disaster aid sector for work!). I wasn't able to find the article she mentioned, but I did find a similar one more recently which I'll attach as well:

In Addition, I've been trying to compile some feeds on blusky for when I see cast & crew share information (and I make sure to vet it) when it comes to where to donate or community resources. LA Fires, Where To Donate LA Fires, Resources Something to keep in mind, for those trying to help, donation needs change on the daily, so if you're really looking to help certain groups (Ex: Pasadena Humane Society) be sure to follow their socials as they'll be the most up to date with what their needs are.

Thank you to all the awesome people who have been sharing ofmdbz, @summerlinenss, and everyone who's tagged those feeds <3

= Charity Raffle =

Our fabulous crewmate Irene Adler has put together this Charity Raffle to help support people affected by the LA Fires! Check out below how to enter and make a difference!

OFMD’S DP fundraiser: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-mike-and-danielle-rebuild-after-fire GOFUNDME WILDFIRE RELIEF FUND: https://www.gofundme.com/c/act/wildfire-relief/california

Here are the stretch goal prizes!

Source: Irene Adler's Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Thinking of you crew, miss you.

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Source: Swagvoid Instagram

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A post shared by Twillostory™ | Art for Mental Wellness (@twillostory)

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Source: Twillostory IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

I thought this gif would be appropriate for this Recap. Miss you OFMD. Gif Courtesy of @hikarielizabethbloom!

#Youtube #Instagram #daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #rhys darby #david jenkins #con o neill #vico ortiz #Andy Rydzewski #samba schutte #kristen johnston #mike berlucchi #mutual aid #ofmd charity raffle #lindsey cantrell #damien gerard #dominic burgess

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toasecretsanta · 1 day ago

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Percy Jackson and the Herald of Destruction

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Apollo, Percy, Estelle A visit to the Jackson-Blofis household brings Apollo face-to-face with one Estelle Jackson-Blofis once more, and her doting big brother. A toasecretsanta submission from @tsarinatorment for Melonyan [AO3], using the prompt "Apollo, Percy Jackson and Estelle Bloufis-Jackson inspired, something sweet maybe a little angsty!" I have shamelessly used aeithalian's Estelle theory in this fic, which can be found detailed here. It's been a while since I last wrote Apollo pov, and I barely ever write Percy, so this was a bit of an adventure to put together. It's certainly closer to fluff than angst, I think, but I still hope you like it, Melonyan!

As a general rule, gods did not knock on the doors of mortal homes. Nor did they ring intercoms and wait patiently to be let in. Why would they? They were gods, and bound by neither mortal social niceties, nor the limitations of mortal entrances. It was perfectly possible – and normal – for a god to simply materialise in the best chair in the abode (opinions on what constituted the best varied drastically).

And yet, there Apollo was, pressing the button for the intercom for the Jackson-Blofis household.

Belatedly, he realised that the occupants were unlikely to be expecting him to take the mortal entrance, not now he was a fully fledged god again, rather than a vulnerable mortal body that couldn’t do useful tricks like light-teleportation, but the button had already been pressed, and Apollo was not about to do a knock-and-run. Besides, he’d been invited, yes, but generally even invited guests were expected to use the front door.

There was also probably no harm in allowing Percy control over who entered his home – and how they entered. Olympus knew they’d taken enough control from the demigod over the past few years.

Really, it was a wonder the boy – almost adult now, closer to young man than boy – was willing to tolerate Apollo’s invasion of his home again.

The intercom connected with a buzz.

“Who is it?” Percy’s voice demanded, crackling slightly through the technology. Modern technology and demigods didn’t always mix well, although they persevered remarkably as society kept advancing and their choice was to keep up or turn luddite.

Apollo cleared his throat, an unnecessary action but one that helped announce his presence – and a long ingrained habit that Apollo wasn’t in any real hurry to shake. He liked the way it brought everyone’s attention to him before he started speaking.

“It’s me,” he announced, the words falling away into a silence that Percy didn’t break, and after a few awkward moments, Apollo remembered that Percy couldn’t actually see him from his apartment. “Apollo,” he added on belatedly, and a little awkwardly.

Percy’s silent judgement was impressive, given they were several floors apart and couldn’t actually see each other. Clearly to the son of Poseidon that was a minor inconvenience that was easily ignored.

He also, more pressingly, wasn’t letting Apollo in.

“Paul invited me?” The words weren’t supposed to come out as a question, because there was no question about it. Paul Blofis had certainly invited Apollo into the humble Jackson-Blofis abode. Although, one could argue that the question was actually asking whether or not Percy had been informed by his step father that Paul had invited a god over for an afternoon.

Those seemed to be the magic words, however, as with a put-upon sigh that made Percy’s thoughts on the matter of Apollo’s presence in his home crystal clear, he finally, finally pressed the button to open the front door of the apartment block and gave Apollo entry into the building. Apollo did not waste the invitation, slipping in immediately and following the familiar route to Percy Jackson’s apartment – familiar, because while Lester’s memories as Apollo had been more full of holes than one of Britomartis’ nets, Apollo could recall everything he had experienced as Lester in pin-sharp clarity. Many of those things he would rather forget, admittedly, but traipsing towards the front door of the Jackson-Blofis apartment had not been, inherently, full of uncomfortable trauma.

In fact, Sally Jackson had been incredibly welcoming to poor, unfortunate Lester, and Apollo was not afraid to admit that he was hoping to find some of her seven layer dip waiting for him – or some of her blue cookies, he supposed, but between the two it was the seven layer dip that had captured his heart. Its inclusion of his cabin number certainly didn’t hurt.

He was not greeted by a seven layer dip, tragically. Nor was he greeted by a plate of blue cookies, or Sally Jackson at all. Paul Blofis was also summarily absent, which seemed a little rude given Apollo was here on the man’s invitation.

No, instead he was greeted by his demigod cousin, who looked no more pleased to see him now than he had been to see a mortal, beaten-up Lester and trash-covered street urchin Meg in the middle of one chilly January. Percy was not alone, however. Clinging to him, but staring out at Apollo with wide sea-green eyes that almost identically matched those of her big brother, was young Estelle.

There were not many things that unnerved Apollo – well, maybe there were a few, but most did not apply to this situation, or indeed most situations that he allowed himself to enter nowadays – but one Estelle Jackson-Blofis managed to do exactly that. It was nothing the young girl had done – at scarcely a year old, there was very little she was capable of doing, beyond apparently chewing on her big brother’s hoodie string, which Percy had either given up discouraging, or hadn’t even noticed she was doing. Indeed, to look at her, there was nothing untoward.

True, she had the exact same eye colour as her demigod brother, who had inherited Poseidon’s preferred appearance, which raised a few questions about her origins although Apollo could detect nothing as strong as demigodliness about her. Strains of a distant legacy? Yes, but the same strains ran through Sally Jackson, so that was to be expected. Estelle was no demigod.

She was simply a young, mortal child, who coincidentally had the same eye colour as Apollo’s uncle, and his dark hair, too, but Paul also had the same dark hair, and Apollo had no difficulty in recognising her as being his biological daughter.

He almost, almost, wouldn’t have known any different than what he saw now. Indeed, if he hadn’t seen her as a much younger child, before her original baby-fluff on the top of her head thinned away and grew back strong and dark, Apollo would have been as clueless as his father was – hoped his father was, and the lack of any world-ending lightning storms suggested that so far the king of the gods remained ignorant.

If he hadn’t seen the greys threading through her dark hair, salt-and-pepper, almost but not quite the same patterning as Griscelli syndrome, during his last visit as Lester, he would never have known that the girl was a ticking time bomb, a catalyst that could ignite at any moment.

The signal for Zeus to end the current age of humanity. And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth, Hesiod had written millennia ago.

The Fates had made an interesting choice, choosing the younger sister of one Perseus Jackson to be the herald, Apollo thought. The loyalty of Percy to those he clung to – his loved ones, family and closest friends – was not something Apollo would’ve chosen to pit against the fall of humanity at the hands of his father, but he was not one of the Fates himself, and understood their workings only when they chose to reveal them.

Needless to say, they had not chosen to reveal their machinations surrounding Estelle to Apollo. If anything, she was hiding in plain sight – nothing about her was Concealed from his sight. If he Looked he could see the spiderweb of her lifetimes, the possibilities glimmering in the sun like gossamer spun silk stretching out towards infinity, the same as any other mortal. The only reason Apollo knew what he was seeing was incomplete was because he’d seen the grey at her temples as a young baby; without that knowledge, he would never have noticed that not all the threads that should be there were there – and he knew his father did not see the threads the way he did.

If Apollo could not see any of her Fates where his father learned of her existence and chose to act upon it, then his father would not see them, either.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” Percy said, disrupting his musings and taking his active attention away from the young, innocent herald of destruction and onto her older brother instead. He still didn’t sound happy to see Apollo, and certainly wasn’t eager to invite him into his home, but his irreverence for the gods didn’t seem to quite extend to slamming doors in their faces. “Mom and Paul will be back soon, they had to go out for a few minutes…” He trailed off, but Apollo could read the judgement in his face just fine: Did you have to pick when they were gone to arrive?

Somewhat embarrassingly, it hadn’t occurred to Apollo to check that his inviter was home when he’d arrived, although in his defence Paul Blofis had specified the afternoon in question, so surely it was common sense to assume that he would be around.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, stepping over the threshold now that he had the invitation and breezing into the apartment. It certainly wasn’t the neatest place he had ever set foot in – nor was it the neatest he had ever seen this particular apartment, either. Apollo’s eyes slid over to Estelle again, who still had the end of Percy’s hoodie string in her mouth and was now gripping at the rest of it with her chubby little fists, too. Percy seemed to have finally realised what was happening to his clothes and was trying to get her to let go whilst kicking the front door shut with his foot.

Herald of destruction, indeed. There was no doubt that most of the mess was the fault of young Estelle, given it was mostly a minefield of various age-appropriate toys scattered across the floor in a child-friendly version of caltrops. At least Estelle had not yet been deemed old enough to be introduced to Lego; scattered Lego bricks were far more lethal than caltrops, even to the soles of godly feet.

As it was, combined with the tipped-over container hanging off the edge of a low table, Apollo got the impression the toys were freshly-scattered, just in time for his arrival. There was the faintest tint of red in the tips of Percy’s ears as he looked away from Estelle and realised Apollo had noticed the mess.

“Uh, sorry about all that,” he said, before trying harder to reclaim the knotted end of the hoodie string from his sister’s mouth with no success. It appeared that Estelle’s stubbornness easily rivalled that of her older brother – Apollo felt a flash of sympathy for Sally Jackson. One headstrong child was already a lot of work. Two of them…

He ignored the small thought that pointed out that both of them had been born with heavy destinies hanging over their heads, like thunderbolt-shaped guillotines.

“It’s fine.” Apollo waved his hand dismissively. “You have not seen Ares’ weapon collection.” Admittedly that was a little misleading – Ares loved his weapons and would never leave his spears, swords or shields littered around like this. However, Apollo’s first comparative thought had been caltrops for a reason.

“Can’t say I’m planning on seeing it, either,” Percy scoffed, which was a wise stance for any demigod to take. Perhaps Ares’ own children might enjoy the experience, but most would find it to be not-so-pleasant. For Percy, who did not get on with Ares in the slightest, it would no doubt be more frustrating than anything. “Estelle, no. Don’t eat that.”

The chubby little bundle that heralded the possible destruction of mankind giggled – not an innocent giggle, no. The giggle of a mischievous child who knew they were misbehaving, and also knew no-one was going to do anything about it. From Percy’s sigh and slumping shoulders, he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it.

Apollo gestured at the floor. “Did you want a hand?” he offered, knowing better than to offer to hold the child herself – and not wanting to, not wanting to do anything that might get Zeus’ eyes on her more than they already would be by virtue of being related to Percy Jackson – but more than willing to help a long suffering older brother clean up his younger sibling’s mess.

It was a position he’d found himself in more than once, although his younger half-siblings tended to create messes of far more epic proportions than a single disrupted crate of children’s toys, and attempts to do anything about it were heavily dissuaded on Olympus. Still, he’d cleaned up a few of Artemis’ messes over the years…

“Sure,” Percy said distractedly, perching on the edge of a couch so that his sister was now in his lap and not supported by his arm, thereby leaving him with twice the hands available to try and get Estelle’s destructive tendencies redirected towards something that wasn’t his clothes. Apollo sincerely wished him luck with that endeavour.

For his part, with Percy’s permission granted, he knelt down and began to gather up Estelle’s impressive collection of toys, ruining their aspirations of being deadly caltrops by plucking them off the rug one by one and depositing them back in the crate, which he remembered to put upright after the first couple of toys spilled back out again. Her collection truly betrayed her status as the beloved baby of the family – Apollo didn’t think he’d seen a child so young with quite so many toys, before.

All the better to cause chaos with, he supposed as he dropped a plushie satyr with one of his horns half torn off into the crate.

Millennia of being the centre of attention told Apollo when he was being watched, and the same prickle of awareness had him glancing back at Percy and Estelle, both of whom were staring at him with their identical sea-green eyes. Estelle had yet to relinquish her hoodie-string snack, but Percy seemed to have forgotten that he was attempting to rescue it from her maw.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Is… there something on my face?” he asked hesitantly, before a thought occurred to him and he craned his head around further. “Or my back? I swear, if Artemis put another of those kick me signs…”

“No!” Percy said, a little abruptly, before shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing on your face. Or your back..?” He said the last bit like a question itself, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that some typical sibling shenanigans didn’t also occur to gods, even when the gods in question also happened to be twins. “I just… didn’t expect you to clean up like that.”

Apollo sat back on his haunches, a well-chewed and still slightly damp hellhound plushie in one hand – oh the irony – and a slightly disturbing squishy skeleton in the other, and centred his attention more directly on Percy. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like that,” Percy repeated, one hand abandoning the hoodie string rescue mission – not that it had been working on that quest for the past thirty seconds anyway – to gesture broadly at Apollo and the toys still to be cleared away. “Instead of, I don’t know, just snapping your fingers or something?”

Apollo blinked, and looked back at Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly. He wanted to say that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and it was true that it had barely occurred to him, a flicker of a thought dismissed before it could fully form, but in reality it boiled down to Estelle, again. Bursts of godly power in the Jackson-Blofis apartment ran the risk of drawing his father’s eye, and Apollo was reasonably determined to minimise Zeus’ reasons for looking in their direction.

As it was, he was technically causing a risk by being there at all, but if he wasn’t being all godly while he was there, maybe Zeus wouldn’t look too closely.

There were some truths that were best off unspoken, though, and Apollo had no desire to speak into the world the danger that Estelle posed, to herself and humanity at large. Percy would take it badly, no doubt, and Zeus would not miss such a declaration.

“I suppose some of my Lester habits haven’t quite left yet,” he said instead, which was true in its own way. “Why, did you want me to?” It was a dangerous question, because if Percy said yes…

But the son of Poseidon was already shaking his head, as Apollo had suspected he would. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “Maybe if she sees that it’s effort to clean up, even for a god, she’ll stop doing it.” The look he sent his little sister was stern, but it was the sort of sternness that didn’t hold up to scrutiny and Apollo could easily see the bemusement behind the fake frown.

Privately, he thought the herald of destruction lurking behind the angelic face thrived on seeing others suffer through chores such as trying to stop her doing what she wanted, knowing they were doomed to fail. The concept of hard work no doubt seemed fun to her, still safely in the stage of youth where everything she wanted fell neatly into place and only other people had to do boring and tedious things like cleaning up her messes. Her tune would only change once it was her responsibility to clean up her own mess.

In Apollo’s experience – and he had a considerable amount of it, given the number of children he had had over the years, even if most of them he had been unable to pick up strewn toys for – most young children Estelle’s age enjoyed watching others clear up their trails of destruction. He had no doubts that an infant Perseus Jackson had been the exact same way.

Still, he saw no reason to disillusion Percy on the topic. Deep down, he suspected that Percy already knew the truth and was simply denying it for his own sanity, but in the short term it didn’t matter. Estelle was still too young to tidy up after herself, and as she had a loving big brother wrapped around her little finger, Apollo knew it would be some time before she truly had to start finding her own feet and responsibilities in the world.

He didn’t envy her that. If anything, he celebrated it. Every day that Estelle was able to act like a loved baby sister with a doting family was a day that her existence went unacknowledged by Zeus, and if that could last her entire mortal lifetime, then Apollo would be ecstatic.

Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly found themselves deposited in the crate on top of Torn-Horn-Satyr, and Apollo resumed tidying up, listening to the sounds of Percy renewing his attempts at rescuing his hoodie string with little success, and finding a smile creeping across his own lips.

It was, in the end, in the hands of the Fates, he knew, but that wasn’t going to stop Apollo doing everything in his own power to keep Estelle safe, too – even if that took the form of picking her toys up by hand.

#toasecretsanta #trials of apollo #pjo apollo #percy jackson #estelle jackson-blofis #tsarinatorment #melonyan

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hetakinkmeme · 2 days ago

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Welcome to the revived Hetalia Kink Meme! This will be hosted both on Tumblr and on Archiveofourown as a prompt meme challenge. I noticed that trying to host on Tumblr led to some issues, and a lot of people don't know how to use Dreamwidth nowadays so attempting to host it there doesn't work anymore either.

Now, the Hetalia fandom isn't as big as it once was, but I'm still hoping that we manage to get some participation going.

Collection link:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Hetalia_Kinkmeme

Please note that this is NOT affiliated with the original Hetalia Kink Meme on Dreamwidth or its corresponding collection on ao3. Their collection is named Hetalia Kink Meme(heta_kink). Ours is HetaliaKinkMeme(Hetalia_Kinkmeme).

Now, here's a quick FAQ and list of rules:

What's a prompt meme?

It's a place where you can suggest things you want to see written in your fandom, or write people's requests if you happen to see one that strikes your fancy! As a requester, click on "prompt form" and fill out the form. The fields with a * next to them are required fields, but you may choose whether to leave the other fields blank or fill them out.

Required fields: Characters(at least 1), Description(Describe what you want and don't want). That's it!

As a writer, you may click "claim" on somebody's prompt to announce your intention to write it.

But OP!! I thought prompts aren't allowed on ao3!!

You're correct. Usually. Many people don't know that there is actually a special collection challenge type on ao3 that is designed for hosting prompt memes just like this one! There is a separate section for prompts where you can upload prompts/requests. Here's a link to ao3's prompt meme FAQ:

How many prompts can we request?

I made the limit 15 per account. I think this is more than enough. Of course I can't stop you from requesting from multiple accounts but come on man... (If you want to add another prompt that badly you could also delete one of your old prompts.)

How long should our fills be?

I am unlikely to enforce any minimum, but I personally recommend at least 400 words.

Can I write a fic for a prompt that someone has already claimed?

Yes! Multiple fills per prompt are allowed. Two cakes and all that.

Are requests anonymous? What if I want to de-anon a request?

Requests are anonymous by default, but you may de-anon by unchecking the "semi-anonymous prompt" box at the end of your prompt form.

Are the collection works anonymous? What if I want to de-anon the fic I wrote?

COLLECTION WORKS ARE NOT ANONYMOUS BY DEFAULT. When uploading a fic to fulfill a prompt, you may add it to the "anonymous" collection on ao3 to keep yourself anonymous.

NOTE: You won't be able to click claim on a prompt without revealing your username. Unfortunately anonymous claims aren't possible without making the entire collection anonymous. A work around is to just upload your fic to the collection the old fashioned way and then state the prompt you're filling in your A/N.

I heavily debated whether to make the entire collection anonymous, but I ultimately wanted it to be up to the author as to whether to anon or de-anon without them having to leave the collection in order to de-anon.

Rules:

1. Your prompt/request must have at least a BIT of description as to what you want. Posting only something like "cat boy!Ivan x dog boy!Alfred" isn't going to do much to get anybody's imagination running. A prompt as short as the above will be considered spam and deleted. Aim to describe a bit of what you want(a sentence or two is fine, just at least as it's something) as well as what you DON'T want(any squicks etc.) 2. Requests must be for Hetalia. I'll allow crossovers if it seems like a popular enough property. (I.e. Hetalia x Harry Potter). Hetalia AUs such as cardverse are more than welcome!

3. Both requests and fills may be anonymous as stated in the FAQ. To make your request anonymous, click the "semi-anonymous prompt?" box at the bottom of the prompt form. It should be auto selected already. This will make sure your prompt is posted under "anonymous".

To make your prompt fill anonymous, upload your fic to the "anonymous" collection along with this one. Unfortunately clicking "claim" on a prompt will reveal your username and there's nothing I can do to change this. You can make note of which prompt you fulfilled in your A/N.

4. All characters & ships welcome. All kinks and types of prompts and works welcome.

5. Be nice to each other. Mean-spirited asks, prompts, or fills will be deleted.

Have any questions? Send in an ask! Prompts and fills may be submitted onto this tumblr as well, but the same rules as above apply. You may submit the same prompt on both ao3 and Tumblr or on only one of them as you wish. Prompts that do not follow the rules will be deleted.

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asparklethatisblue · 2 days ago

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So because watching soap opera with my nan ruined my brain:

Soap opera kid fic plot with time travel JayVik.

Jayce gets sent back to a time before the HexGates are built, he finds Viktor alone and manages to convince him to stop, they make a plan on how to keep HexTech safe as well. Of course he also focus on a way to make sure Viktor’s health doesn’t deteriorate. Figuring that if they pivot to medicine and actual HELP even without funding, that world’s Jayce and Viktor can be happy.

While they plan how to go about this, Jayce, who is desperate for human affection, ends up confessing his love and that every version of him loves Viktor in every universe. They fall into bed because Viktor is already in love with his Jayce anyway, and this man is also just simply Jayce. Maybe not his Jayce, but Jayce who is older and looks at his with open adoration and whispers how much he loves him when Viktor kisses him. Can you blame him? Eventually Viktor has a battle-plan on where to take the research without overusing magic, on how to convince everyone who matters… Jayce gets pulled back into the Arcane eventually, back to where he is needed, leaving Viktor quietly pining but confident that he’ll eventually get his nerve up to confess his love to his actual timeline’s Jayce. That or indicate that he wants to be wooed.

Viktor and his own Jayce focus on their new projects, even though this Jayce doesn’t know what prompted the change of heart. It doesn’t matter, he loves Viktor, he is shocked to hear of his health prognosis and throws his entire energy into researching ways to heal the condition caused by the Grey. He’s in love, he doesn’t care if they get the Council’s full approval or if his research doesn’t make something as flashy as the HexGates. If Viktor is insisting on this new change of course, then he trusts him. He also appreciates the weird flirty mood between them suddenly, the way he’s certain Viktor likes him and maybe his own crush could go somewhere…

So when Viktor one day shows up all frantic and jittery, confessing that he is pregnant but saying nothing about who the father is? Begging for… anything. Help? Jayce is shaken and heartbroken, but no way will he abandon the man he loves, even if he doesn’t love him back. Even if he is pregnant by someone else, someone he clearly misses. He can tell something is wrong, that Viktor is unusually lost. He promises to lie and claim the child as his own, if Viktor needs him to, provide for it, for Viktor. Anything.

If the father isn’t in the picture (through neglect or tragedy) then Jayce will step up! He loves Viktor too much to be selfish, even if it makes him feel sick that his love is unrequited.

Viktor meanwhile is screaming internally because he doesn’t know how to explain to Jayce, who he never even kissed, that it’s HIS child. Here he is, having quietly sighed and pined for Jayce for weeks, that sad broken version of Jayce, wondering how to go about getting together with his Jayce. How does he even start? “Hello Jayce, as you can see I am knocked up. Believe it or not it’s yours, yes I know we have never even been naked in the same room, trust me. I just happened to meet a time travelling version of you who fucked me. Don’t think about it too hard.”. They have nothing even approaching that sort of technology (yet). Jayce probably would think it’s a cruel joke.

So now Jayce is heartbroken and Viktor is watching Jayce be brave and selfless about it and acting so damn polite about everything

Idk I already wrote one kid fic, you people do with this what you want

#jayvik

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abbyfmc · 3 days ago

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Yandere story idea #33:

Yandere hazbin hotel idea x reader:

Let's start with the boys first.

Here's a little idea of how I think the guys at Hazbin Hotel would react if you tried to escape or left them.

Yandere Lucifer Morningstar:

I don't think that after suffering the abandonment of his first wife (Lilith) and the estrangement between him and Charlie, he would like the idea of you leaving him. I like to think of Lucifer as a yandere who is a combination of an emotionally dependent yandere and a mildly possessive yandere who, no matter what you do or say, will not let you go.

Yandere Alastor:

If he were human, he probably wouldn't accept it and would hunt you down with an axe. If you're not his, you're not anyone's, so run little daisy!.

If he is the radio demon everyone knows he won't let you go either. It doesn't matter which part of hell you run to or with whom; if you even mention this idea to him, he will most likely laugh in your face and then punish you or say "Don't think about that stupid thing. I will always find you."

Yandere Angel Dust:

I haven't read any yandere fics about Angel Dust and therefore, I don't have a solid basis to imagine him in that aspect. What I can say is that he wouldn't take it well (like any other yandere) and he might even feel betrayed and quite indignant at the fact that you just dumped him from one day to the next.

Yandere Husk:

He would be angry, indignant, and just like Angel, he would feel betrayed that you had left him, run away, or even proposed such an idea to him. However, he would also be bewildered.

Yandere Sr.Pentious:

Well, Pentious is in heaven so I guess it would be the other way around XD.

I haven't read anything by Pentious either, so I can only say that he would be disappointed and frustrated with your escape or breakup, and like any yandere, he wouldn't accept it.

Yandere Valentino:

"Who do you think you are?, are you stupid?" He would probably tell you angrily (or mockingly) before grabbing you by the neck or hair and dragging you back to his domain. You better apologize, because he won't show you any mercy for daring to defy him.

Yandere Vox:

If you remember my previous prompt or phrase for him or not, I'll leave it here:

"Do you think you can beat me in my own game?!"

"(Y/n), don't forget one important thing: I'M ON EVERYWHERE YOU GO and always watching your steps, so don´t think about the stupidity of leaving me!"

He, like Valentino and the others, is a jealously control freak. Even if you leave the V's tower, he had eyes in every place (except for the Hazbin Hotel and maybe Cannibal Alley), but you still wouldn't be safe from his clutches. Following this, Vox will likely want to control or hypnotize you so that you won't even think of trying to escape from him again.

Yandere Adam:

I would think he will be like Lucifer, but more angrier, frustrated or agressive.

There's two posibilities:

#1: He mocks at you for your failed escaped attempt and then drag you back to his side by force.

#2: He will be angrier, and the he drags you or punish you.

PS: If you were sent to hell, he will take advantage of the extermination to pay you a visit and teach you a lesson about what happens when you try to escape from him (or he will only do it to get revenge after having left him).

-The End.

This is the first time i wrote something about Hazbin Hotel, so I know there are some flaws that I hope to correct over time. For now I have in mind to write small things about other fandoms to feel more confident about myself.

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 3 days ago

Text

room for one more troubled soul

A belated fill for Day 5 of @charles-rowland-week! This is set in the Dead Girl Detectives AU I wrote about in tell them I was loved, featuring ghost!Crystal, ghost!Niko, and psychic!Charles, but it works fine as a standalone. You can either read it below or here on AO3.

Prompt: AU

Rating: M

Warnings: Child abuse, homelessness, David-typical unpleasantness, canon-typical violence

Word count: 7.5K

Relationships: Charles & Crystal & Niko

Summary: After running away from home, Charles ends up captured by a demon who he’s pretty sure is going to kill him. It seems like a fitting end for a short, shitty life until two ghost girls show up and rescue him from David.

Or, how Charles Rowland—psychic medium, unwanted son, and runaway—becomes a part of the Dead Girl Detective Agency.

***

Charles is twelve when he realizes that his father doesn’t love him anymore.

His father has always been a storm cloud of emotions that hangs over the whole house. There’s usually anger, resentment, fear, and a strange sort of grief, but there used to be love too. Charles used to feel it, even as Dad was slapping Mum across the face or taking the belt to Charles’s back. He knew that Dad cared about them in his own way, that he wanted them—especially Charles—to be better. And he could always tell that he was sorry after he hit them, even if Dad never said it.

The love ebbs away so slowly that Charles doesn’t notice until it’s gone, until his father shoves him against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs and send a framed family photo falling to the ground, where the glass cracks on impact. Charles stares at his father, hands raised to protect his face, and realizes that there’s no love left in Paul Rowland: just rage and the bitter disappointment of a man whose life is nothing like he expected. Dad isn’t even a little bit sorry as he pulls his belt off.

The hatred hurts more than the belt.

***

Charles is fifteen when he realizes that if he doesn’t leave, his father is going to kill him. He touches the coffee table in the middle of the living room and sees it clearly: a fist to the face, Charles reeling backwards, the crack of a skull against wood, blood soaking into the already-stained carpet. He stands there, frozen, until his father barks at him to demand what the fuck is wrong with him and Charles can only babble and excuse before scrambling away from the coffee table so fast that he trips over his own two feet.

That night, he sneaks out after his parents are asleep with nothing but but a backpack full of essentials, his cricket bat in case he runs into trouble, and the money he stole from his father’s wallet. He doesn’t need his powers to know that he’s never going to step foot back inside this house and that he’ll probably never see his parents again. He doesn’t know how he feels about that, so he doesn’t think about it.

For a while, he stays with his cousin, Liz. His uncle is cut from the exact same cloth as his dad, so she knows why Charles would need to run. But after a few weeks, Liz’s boyfriend starts making noise about how bloody inconvenient it is to have a teenager sleeping on their couch and eating all their food. Charles sees the writing on the wall, so he leaves before Liz has to make a choice. She’s his favorite cousin, so he doesn’t want to learn how she’d choose.

After that, he stays with a mate from school, Henry. That’s fine for a while, until Henry’s parents get it in their heads that what he needs to do is sit down with his own parents and tell them how he really feels about his dad beating the shit out of them, as if talking it out will help. He only has one set of parents, they tell Charles, and they won’t be around forever. Wouldn’t it be better to forgive and forget?

Charles leaves in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. He feels a little bad—Henry’s always been a good friend—but it’s only a matter of time before his parents call Charles’s, and that’s the last thing Charles needs.

He goes to London, because it seems like exactly the sort of place you should go when you’re trying to hide. In a city of millions of people, who will notice Charles? Plus, he’s always liked the city. His dad took him to a couple Arsenal games when he was a kid and it’s the only time he ever remembers Dad looking truly happy.

But London is a different place when you have nowhere to go. It’s winter and the shelters are full of other people needing a place to stay for the night. Plus, Charles keeps telling people he’s nineteen, but he knows he doesn’t look it. He’s not sure if he’s been reported missing—his parents probably wouldn’t bother, but Henry’s parents may have—so he’s not sure if anyone will be looking for him. Still, it seems safer not to linger in one place for long, even if that means being cold and hungry.

It’s the ghosts that keep him alive. London is full of them and once he gets to talking to a few of them, they help him find safe places to sleep. Janice, the ghost of an old lady who spends her afterlife knitting a child-sized sweater on a park bench, steals food for him sometimes. Charles doubts he would have made it a week here without them.

He meets David in the park that Janice haunts. He seems like a nice sort of bloke, a uni student who says he goes to school nearby. He buys Charles a sandwich and a cup of tea and listens when Charles talks about the father who didn’t love him and the mother who did love him, but not as much as she loved his father. He seems sympathetic, so much so that Charles gets the feeling that maybe he really understands. Other people, like Henry, have tried, but David seems to really get it. Charles has been so desperately lonely for weeks now, or maybe for the last fifteen years, and it’s such a relief to meet someone who sees him.

“Something’s off about that boy,” Janice says, eyeing David’s back warily as he walks away.

“Nah, he seems an alright sort.” Charles looks into his nearly-empty cup of tea. It’s the first hot drink he’s had in weeks and the warmth still lingers in his chest.

She makes a skeptical noise and he smiles at her fondly. Janice doesn’t seem to like most people. He’d be pretty sure she didn’t like him either, if she didn’t keep making sure that he doesn’t starve or freeze to death.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her, smiling fondly. “I’m a psychic, yeah? I can tell when people are up to no good.”

He sees David in the park a few more times. David’s always friendly and willing to lend an ear and a few pounds for a sandwich. It’s the fourth or fifth time that they see each other, that David mentions that his roommate just moved out and he has an extra room.

“It’s too fucking cold to be sleeping outside, mate,” he tells Charles. “You can crash for a bit, just until you get your feet under you.”

Charles shakes his head. “Don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You won’t be.” David’s smile is kind.

“I can’t pay rent.”

“Sure, because you don’t have a job. You need a good shower and a shave before you go looking for one. Let’s just get you back on your feet and then we can talk about rent.”

Charles is a psychic. He’s been able to read other people since before he could talk. And all he reads from David is worry and compassion, no hint of malevolence or ulterior motives. A shower and a shave sound bloody brilliant. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to accept a helping hand. Once he gets his life together, he can pay David back.

“Maybe for a night or two,” Charles says hesitantly and David’s smile widens. It’s only later that Charles will recognize the triumph in his eyes.

***

David does let Charles out to shower and shave occasionally, but that’s only because he smells when he doesn’t. Charles isn’t sure how David can smell anything else over the reek of dead fish that permeates the entire flat. At least the remembers to feed Charles every other day or so and has gotten pretty good about bringing pitchers of water after the time Charles nearly died after not having anything to drink for two and a half days. Mostly, he leaves Charles alone in his little room, the door locked and the windows boarded up.

Charles huddles on the little air mattress in the corner and tries not to think of anything. He tries not to think of David slipping into his mind and using him as a puppet, being locked inside his own mind as his body traveled around the city without his say so. He tries not to think of the venom David spits at him: “sad excuse for a psychic” and “fucking useless” and “should have just left you to starve on a bench.” He tries not to think of how fucking cold he is; if there’s heat here, David never seems to turn it on. It feels like he’s still sleeping outside.

He tries not to think of the vision he had earlier when David grabbed his wrist: himself tied up on the ground while David stands over him, knife in hand.

David is going to kill him.

It’s probably been a month since Charles trailed David back to his flat, trusting as a sacrificial lamb, and realized the moment he stepped inside and saw David’s eyes turn black that he’d made a mistake. Charles has spent most of the last month terrified and furious with himself for being so stupid. He would think the fear would have dulled by now, like it used to when he lived under the constant threat of his father’s belt. But right now, he’s so scared, he thinks he might be sick with it.

Charles doesn’t want to die. He left home because he wanted to live. It seems so fucking unfair that he escaped his dad only to end up captured by a worse monster than Paul Rowland could ever dream of being. And now Charles is going to die here and no one’s ever going to know what happened to him, if anyone even tries to find out what happened to him. Most likely, he’ll just be gone, with not even a missing poster left for people to ignore.

He might be crying a little when the door opens, but he quickly wipes his cheeks on the filthy sleeve of his shirt before David steps inside. Rising to his feet on shaky legs, Charles faces the demon head on. If he’s going to die, he’s not going to do it cowering on the ground.

“Here you go,” David says in his mocking voice, wearing a smile so unlike the one he used to convince Charles to follow him home. Charles can’t believe he ever saw kindness there. He tosses a greasy paper bag on the ground at Charles’s feet. “Eat up.”

Charles doesn’t bend to pick up the bag, even though his stomach is hollow with hunger. He figured out weeks ago that if he acts like he wants something too much, David will take it away just to see him squirm. “What do you want?” He’s asked it before. It was one of the first things he asked when he realized that David wasn’t the harmless uni student he was pretending to be. He hasn’t gotten an answer yet.

David chuckles. “Nothing you can give me.”

“Then you can let me go, yeah?” It’s not begging, Charles tells himself. He already tried that. He tried fighting David. He tried escaping while David thought he was taking a shower. He tried stealing David’s phone to call 999. Nothing’s worked. But maybe he can try negotiating. He’s been told he can be pretty convincing.

Anything that might save him from ending up with a knife in his heart.

“And why would I do that?” David steps closer, still wearing that predatory smile.

“Well, I’m no use to you, am I?” Charles asks desperately. “So why not just let me go? It’ll save you money on burgers and chips.”

David clucks his tongue. “You know, maybe you’re right. Here I am, spending all this time and money on a pathetic excuse for a psychic who’s barely any better than a carnival fortune teller. What a waste of my fucking time.” He tilts his head, regarding Charles coldly. “Maybe I should just cut my losses.”

Charles swallows. He doesn’t need his powers to know he’s made another mistake. “Please.”

“Do you know why I’m here in London, Charles, instead of in hell where I belong, torturing souls for all eternity?” David’s voice drops to a whisper.

Charles shakes his head.

“There was a psychic medium and she was everything you’re not. Strong and fascinating and so, so powerful.”

“And what happened to her?” Charles’s voice comes out a croak.

“She died.” David runs a finger down his cheek in a mockery of tears. “And I took her to Hell, because she was a really bad girl, but then she went and escaped. And you know, Hell really doesn’t like it when you let a soul escape you. So I got banished too and I don’t get to go back until I bring her back too. That’s why I thought I could use you.”

“I’m not going to help you,” Charles growls. He doesn’t want to die, but he won’t stoop that low to save his own life.

“Oh, I know.” David scoffs. “You’re not nearly strong enough to be useful to me. Your powers are…” He kicks the bag at Charles’s feet. “A cheap, greasy burger to her Wagyu beef. You’re hardly worth the time it’d take to break your neck.”

Charles can’t help it; he flinches back.

David laughs. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I can find something to do with you so you won’t be a complete waste of my time.”

As the door closes behind the demon, Charles sinks down onto the air mattress, hugging his knees to his chest in a vain attempt to stop himself from shaking.

***

Charles’s head is pounding, his thoughts slow and sluggish as he wakes. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept deeply, but he feels like he’s been asleep for a thousand years. His eyes are gritty, the inside of his mouth bone dry, and he aches all over. He tries to stretch, but he can’t move. The fog in his mind clears as fear rushes in and Charles’s eyes snap open to find himself tied up on the ground in the middle of his room. David is nowhere to be seen.

Frantically, Charles wriggles around, but the ropes don’t give. The last thing he remembers is eating the container of soup David brought him for dinner. He knew it tasted funny, but it’d been days since the burger and chips and he’d been starving, so he’d gulped it down anyway. There must have been something in it. How long was he unconscious? And where is David?

He doesn’t have to wonder where David is for long; the door opens and the demon comes in, the knife Charles saw in his vision in hand. Charles goes cold for reasons that have nothing to do with the icy chill in the air.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He wants to sound defiant. He just sounds terrified.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our talk the other day.” David moves towards Charles in an unhurried saunter. “And I realized that I really haven’t been thinking outside the box about how I could use you to get back to Hell. I’ve been so focused on Crystal for years and I forgot that just maybe, I don’t need her at all. Maybe you’ll actually be less useless than you look, Charles.”

Charles can’t look away from the knife. “Sorry, not sure I can get you to Hell, mate. Unless you want me to stab you with that. Happy to try.”

“No, I think I have another idea.” David comes to stand by Charles’s head, twirling the knife casually. “You know, when someone dies, either Death comes and sweeps them off to a peaceful, boring afterlife, or Hell comes and snatches them away. Which do you think will happen to you?”

Hands pinned between his back and the ground, Charles tries frantically to loosen the knots around his wrists, but his fingers are clumsy with panic.

“You know, don’t you?” David smiles almost indulgently. “Your own father didn’t love you. You told me when we first met. We both know that there has to be something very, very wrong with you if your own father couldn’t stand the sight of you. You being born destroyed his whole life.”

“Fuck you,” Charles grits out.

“And you get angry sometimes, don’t you? Just like him. You think if I let you out of here, you’ll go on to have a perfect life with a nice wife and a couple of cute kids? How many black eyes will your wife have to cover up with makeup? How long will it take your kids to be terrified of the sound of your footsteps coming down the hall? You can fool yourself all you want, Charles, but I can see right through you. I can see the kind of monster you’ll become if you live.”

Charles closes his eyes. He can feel his heart pounding frantically against his ribs, like it knows it only has so many beats left and wants to get in as many as it can.

“We both know where you belong,” David croons. “And I really hate doing good deeds, but we both know I’m doing one when I put this knife in your heart and stop you from becoming just like dear old dad. And then when Hell comes to collect you, I’ll hitch a ride.”

The floorboards creak next to Charles’s head as David moves closer and Charles braces himself. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that David’s raising the knife, ready to plunge it into Charles’s chest, just like in his vision.

Hands grab Charles by the legs and yank. He yelps, eyes flying open in surprise, as he’s dragged across the ground, out of the range of David’s knife, which sinks harmlessly into the ground. When he glances down, he sees hands with pink-painted nails wrapped around his ankles. Behind him, David curses and Charles looks up to see the demon snatching up the knife, face twisted into a snarl. His eyes have gone entirely black.

David’s back is turned to the door, so he doesn’t see when a ghost steps right through it, book in one hand and the other hand outstretched. She’s about Charles’s age, wearing an old-fashioned sort of long light purple skirt and matching jacket, both embroidered with flowers, over a high-necked white blouse and an eye-shaped brooch at her throat. Her eyes are fixed on David, a grim look on her pretty face, as her lips move silently and a flame appears in the palm of her hand.

Charles doesn’t mean for his expression to give anything away, but it must, because David whirls around. When he sees the girl, he laughs. “Well, look who it is. I should have known you’d turn up, Crystal. You never like it when someone else is the center of attention. Still pining after me after all these years?”

“Hi,” a voice whispers in Charles’s ear and he turns his head, swallowing a surprised cry when he finds a girl’s face only inches from his own, her head and neck sticking out of the floor. Smiling, she says, “I’m Niko. And that’s Crystal over there with the fire. We’re the Dead Girl Detectives and we’re here to save you.”

“The Dead Girl…” Charles trails off as one of her arms phases through the floor and she hauls herself upwards like she’s climbing out of a pool. She’s wearing a short, bright pink dress with poofy sleeves and a giant bow tied around her waist. Bizarrely, she’s wearing a Hello Kitty backpack.

“Don’t worry, babe.” David takes a step towards Crystal, not even seeming to notice Niko and Charles, like she’s the only one in the room. “He means nothing to me. You’re the one I really want to drag kicking and screaming to Hell.”

“It’s been thirty-five years, David,” Crystal says. “Are you really not over it? This is getting pathetic.”

“Turn over,” Niko tells Charles and he complies, flipping onto his side so she can untie his wrists. “You’re Charles, right?”

“How did you know?” Charles tenses. The last time he thought someone was doing a good deed for him, he ended up locked in a room for a month.

“Janice hired us to find you. She was worried about you when you didn’t come back to the park.”

“Janice?” Charles nearly forgot about the cranky ghost on the park bench who stole food for him and knew the moment she clapped eyes on David that he was trouble.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.” With a final yank, the ropes around his wrists come loose. “Can you untie your ankles? I need to help Crystal.”

Charles nods, sitting up with a wince to fumble at the ropes around his fingers. Crystal and David are still facing each other, Crystal with the flame in her hand and David wearing that same mocking smile. When Niko stands up, he turns that smile on her. Charles wants to punch it off his smug fucking face.

“Still keeping this one around, Crystal?” David asks. “I keep waiting for you to get bored of the sunshine and rainbows thing. You used to have standards for the company you kept.”

“I still do,” she says. “I’ve just raised them.”

“You know, I’m glad she’s here. Now, when I drag you down to Hell, we can bring your annoying little sidekick too.”

That seems to be enough for Crystal, who says another word in a language Charles doesn’t understand, making the flames leap off her palm and right at David’s face.

“Charles, you should probably run,” Niko says as David and Crystal lunge at each other.

Charles kicks away the last of the ropes and stumbles to his feet. There’s definitely a part of him that wants to bolt for the door. But these girls—the Dead Girl Detectives—came here to save him and leaving them to face a demon alone seems like a shit way to repay them. Not that they seem like they need his help. Crystal is throwing around fire with the skilled ease of someone used to it while Niko pulls a piece of chalk from her backpack and kneels to draw symbols on the ground. Charles may want to help, but he has no idea how.

Then he thinks of his cricket bat. Did David get rid of it, or is it still somewhere in his flat? Charles runs for the door, bursting out into the living area, which is bare of furniture and reeks of fish. He finds his backpack, jacket, and cricket bat by the door, right where he set them down a month ago right before he realized how badly he had fucked up by following David home. He picks up his cricket bat, examines it to make sure it’s undamaged, then rushes back into the bedroom to join the fray.

He finds Crystal fighting against a web of fire that’s surrounded her, pinning her to the wall, while David rounds on Niko, who is still focused on drawing a circle of symbols, her eyes wide as she hurries to finish. Charles crosses the room in two steps and hits David across the face hard enough to make his head snap around. Charles has taken a lot of swings with his cricket bat, but this might be the most satisfying one yet.

“I’m an ancient demon, Charles,” David says. There’s blood on his mouth and a burn on his cheek. “You can’t defeat me with a cricket bat.”

“Maybe not.” Charles shrugs. “But I’m going to try, aren’t I?”

He hits David again, this time in the stomach, and again in the head. A month worth of terror, grief, rage, and hopelessness seems to explode out of him as he just keeps hitting. David laughs and taunts him, but he stumbles with every hit, which is enough to keep Charles swinging. He wants to obliterate that smug, grinning face. He wants David to be half as afraid as Charles has been for the past month.

“Just like Dad, aren’t you, Charles?” David asks in a mocking voice and for an instant, it’s not the demon’s bloody face staring back at him, but Charles’s mum, looking at Charles with scared, betrayed eyes. Even though he knows it’s a trick, Charles’s swing falters.

It’s the opening David needs to reach out and grab the bat, yanking it out of Charles’s hand and breaking it over his knee. Charles stares in dismay as David tosses the broken bits of wood to the ground.

“Oops.” David steps on the remains of the cricket bat as he rounds on Charles. “You know, I think I’ve had enough of—”

A glowing golden string wraps around his wrist and David and Charles both look over to see Niko standing outside the circle of symbols, string in hand. With a flick of her wrist, David is yanked forward like there’s a hook in his chest. He stumbles into the circle, struggling against the string with all his might. It doesn’t look like much, but he seems as trapped as Charles was earlier. Charles will have to ask Niko how it works later, if they make it out of here.

“Ready, Crystal?” Niko asks.

“You have no idea.” Crystal strides to her side and takes her hand. Burns criss-cross her arms and torso, but they already seem to be healing. “See you in another decade or so, David.”

“Bitch.” David bears his teeth into a snarl. “This time, it won’t take me long to find my way back. And when I do, you and this dumb little cunt—”

Charles is about to pick up the shattered remains of his cricket bat and give beating the fucker to death another go, but then the girls begin to chant. A wind picks up around the room and David howls. He thrashes against the golden string, hurling himself at the edge of the circle, but he can’t escape. As Charles watches, wide-eyed, David begins to flicker in and out of view, like a candle guttering out. With one last scream loud enough that it seems to vibrate through Charles’s bones, the demon vanishes. The string falls to the floor, its golden glow gone.

“What happened to him?” Charles asks into the ringing silence.

“We banished him to another dimension.” Crystal snaps the book in her hand shut and hands it to Niko, who slips it into the Hello Kitty backpack. “Not Hell, because they’re not going to let him back there without me, but somewhere he’ll have trouble finding his way back from. Last time, it took him a decade. This time, I’m hoping for two.”

“Right.” Charles nods, like he sees demons get banished to other dimensions every day. “Brills. So he’s gone?”

She smiles at him tiredly. “As gone as David ever is.”

***

Look, Charles knows he probably shouldn’t follow Crystal and Niko back to their office. This is how he got into trouble in the first place, following someone home just because they were nice to him. But Charles is exhausted and when he steps outside for the first time in a month, he finds that London’s being hit by the bloody blizzard of the century, so he decides that if Crystal and Niko are going to kidnap and murder him, they’ve probably earned it. He just hopes they let him have a nap and a proper wash first.

When they arrive at the abandoned building they call their office, Charles doesn’t even look around for any signs of danger before he collapses onto the sofa and falls asleep. He’s not sure how long he sleeps. A few times, he’s vaguely aware of Crystal and Niko talking, but it’s never loud enough to drag him fully back to consciousness. When he does finally open his eyes, which are gritty and sore from sleep, he finds that it’s dark outside the window. Niko is sitting behind the desk, typing on a laptop, while Crystal stands at the window, looking out at the snow.

He glances around the office. It’s small and cluttered, every surface covered with trinkets ranging from crystal balls to old-fashioned clocks to a bobblehead Godzilla. The walls are covered in more posters of anime boys than he’d expect from a supernatural detective agency, but who is he to judge? There’s an overflowing bookshelf in the corner that seems to hold a mix of serious-looking, leather-bound tomes, mangas, and paperback mysteries. It seems like a home and Charles has to swallow down the knot of jealousy that rises in his throats.

Both Crystal and Niko look up when he groans and sits up.

“Good, you’re awake!” Niko smiles at him brightly. “How are you feeling?”

Charles rubs at his sore eyes. “Like shit, really. How long was I out?”

“Fifteen hours,” Niko says. “It’s okay, being kidnapped is tiring. We got you some sandwiches.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Charles descends on the pile of sandwiches on the little table next to the couch, hardly even noticing what kind they are as he devours them. He’s vaguely aware that he’s in a room with the two fittest girls he’s ever seen in his life and he probably looks a mess—it’s been at least a week since David let him shower and shave the scraggly patch of hair that grows on his chin—but he doesn’t much care. He thinks he might be well and truly safe for the first time in months and he’s almost ready to weep with relief.

“Better?” Crystal asks after he eats three sandwiches and downs one and a half bottles of water.

Charles smiles sheepishly. “Better. Thanks for getting me out of there, yeah? Pretty sure I was well and truly fucked before you came along.”

“We know how to handle David by now,” Crystal says, like banishing a powerful demon is nothing. Charles guesses that for them, it might be.

“Well, thanks.” It occurs to Charles that he’s been crashing on their couch, probably getting in the way of them working their cases, for fifteen hours. One thing he’s learned from relying on the charity of strangers for months now is that it’s best to get out before they get tired of him. “Do you have somewhere I can have a quick wash before I go?”

“Go?” Niko’s forehead creases in a frown.

“Where are you going to go?” Crystal asks.

Charles shrugs, trying for a smile, though it seems stiff and false on his face. “Probably back to the park, yeah? Janice will be worried about me.”

Crystal doesn’t seem to be buying it. “I went to see Janice while you were asleep. She knows you’re fine.”

“Brills.” Charles bobs his head in a nod. “But I don’t want to overstay my welcome, do I? Sure you don’t need me underfoot.”

“We’re ghosts,” Crystal says. “If you’re in the way, we can pass right through you.”

“Not that you’re in the way,” Niko adds quickly. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

Liz said that to him when he first showed up at her flat. So did Henry and his parents. None of them meant it.

Niko presses on, smiling. “We don’t get a lot of guests. It’ll be like a sleepover! Except, we’re ghosts, so we can’t sleep. Or eat junk food. But we can stay up late with you watching movies.”

Charles looks away, unaccountably embarrassed. It’s nice of Niko to offer, but he can tell from the look on her face that she just feels bad for him. He reaches down to trace a finger over the swirls in the wooden table and a vision hits him.

An angry, shouting ghost, his face screwed up in a snarl. The table flying through the air, right at Crystal’s head. Niko shrieking in surprise as the table passes right through Crystal and splinters against the wall.

He blinks and the vision is gone. Crystal and Niko are right where they were an instant ago, both staring at him. “You should move that table,” he tells them. “Someone’s going to throw it at you and it’ll get smashed up.”

“You can see the future?” Crystal asks, like she’s surprised.

“Well, yeah,” Charles says. “I’m a psychic, aren’t I? Like you.”

“I’ve never been very good at seeing the future.” She shoots Niko a loaded glance. “More the present and the past.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Only see a few seconds at a time. Not very useful.”

“You saved my favorite table.” Niko crosses the room to pick up the table, moving it behind the desk. “I think that’s useful.”

“Can you read people?” Crystal asks, watching Charles curiously.

“Yeah.” Charles grimaces. “Whether I want to or not.”

She nods. “I remember that. It was a ton of fun sitting in a classroom full of girls in 1916 and knowing how much they all hated me.”

“Been there, mate.” Charles remembers the last time he kissed a girl and realized she was thinking about his best friend. Or the time his favorite teacher handed him back a paper he thought he’d done okay on and Charles felt the utter contempt the man held him in. “Some days, I get why so many of us go become hermits in the woods. I would, but I’d miss spaghetti.”

Her lips twitch. “These days, I can only read the dead. They’re less noisy.”

“Sounds aces,” Charles says, then wonders if he’s put his foot in it. “I mean, not having to read everyone sounds aces. Not being dead. Sorry, that sounds rough.”

“I’ve been dead since 1916,” Crystal says. “You get used to it.”

“Did David…” He trails off, wondering if that’s a rude question. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of ghost etiquette.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem offended. “He didn’t kill me, exactly. The exorcism the school chaplain performed to try to get him out of me did.”

“And dandelion sprites exploded out of my brain,” Niko adds. “But that’s how I met Crystal, so it’s okay.”

Charles jumps as muffled shouting comes from one of the desk drawers. “What brains?” a squeaky voice yells. “We didn’t see any in there.”

Crystal pounds on the desk drawer. “Shut the fuck up in there, or I will drown you.”

“You always fucking say that.”

“Yeah, bitch. Maybe you should shut the fuck up, or we’ll drown you.”

Niko giggles. “They’re not so bad. They grow on you.”

“They really don’t.” Crystal looks at the drawer in disgust.

Charles stares. “The things that killed you are in that drawer?”

“Dandelion sprites,” Niko says.“They’re not so bad. They don’t really mean to kill people. That’s just what happens when they exit their host.”

Crystal rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “They’re toxic little shits, Niko.”

“They feed on attention,” Niko tells Charles, ignoring Crystal. “We keep them in the drawer most of the time, but we take them out sometimes so they can eat.”

“And they eat... attention?” Charles asks, bewildered.

“They seem to prefer negative attention,” Crystal says. “Otherwise, maybe they wouldn’t be such little assholes.”

“See?” Niko slides the drawer open, eliciting shrieks and protests from within, and pulls out a jar. Inside, two tiny figures, each no taller than Charles’s thumb, shield their eyes from the light. “These are Litty and her… well, we actually don’t know what they are to each other. This is Litty and Kingham.”

Litty catches sight of Charles and wrinkles her nose. “Oh, ew.”

“Really?” Kingham puts his hands on his hips. “You won’t let us out of this jar, but you’ll just let anyone walk into the office? Where has he been, snorkeling in a pile of fish guts?”

Charles should probably be offended, but he just grins. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Guys, don’t be mean to Charles,” Niko tells the sprites. “He’s our new friend.”

“Figures, the only friend you’d be able to make is one that smells like fish.”

“Okay, that’s enough sprite time.” Crystal plucks the jar out of Niko’s hand and shuts it back in the desk drawer.

Something like hope is kindling in Charles’s chest. He likes Crystal and Niko and they don’t seem to be in a huge rush to show him the door. Niko even called him a friend. “Look, you two saved my life. I owe you, don’t I? Maybe I could stick around for a bit? Use my powers to help out on cases where I can? I can read the living, which might come in handy sometimes, and I can see the future. And…” His mind races, trying to come up with a reason to let him stay. He remembers Niko saying, “being kidnapped is tiring,” like she knows from experience.

“I helped with David, didn’t I?” he adds. “Kept him busy with my cricket bat so Niko could draw that circle.”

“He did,” Niko says, glancing at Crystal. “I wouldn’t have been able to finish the banishing circle if he hadn’t distracted David.”

Charles has a feeling he has Niko convinced, so he turns to Crystal. “I’m pretty aces at defending myself. I can get another cricket bat and if you’ve got clients who want to throw tables at you or who won’t pay, I can sort ‘em out. I’ll have your back. And I won’t be any trouble. Promise.”

Niko leans down to whisper something in Crystal’s ear. Crystal nods and murmurs something back, then they look at each other for a loaded moment. There’s history in that look, two people who have known each other for many years and don’t have to say anything to communicate. Charles feels another twinge of jealousy. He’s never had anyone to exchange looks like that with. He’s never had anyone who cared to know him that well.

“We have a room we let living clients stay in sometimes, when they have nowhere else to go,” Crystal says after a long moment. “It’s not much and everyone tells us the hot water heater is worthless, but there’s a bed we can make up. It might be nice to have another psychic around.”

“And someone who can hit demons with a cricket bat,” Niko adds.

“You two deal with lots of demons?” He doesn’t see either of them taking on the forces of Hell, but they handled David and Crystal escaped Hell, so maybe he shouldn’t assume anything.

“Not as many as you’d think,” Crystal says. “Mostly, we help ghosts with any unfinished business that’s stopping them from moving on. It doesn’t involve many demons.”

“Except for David.” Niko wrinkles her nose with distaste.

Crystal mirrors the look. “David will be a problem for the rest of eternity. At least until we find a way to trap or banish him for good.”

“Well, next time he shows up, I’m happy to hit him with a cricket bat,” Charles tells her. “Just need to find a new one.”

“Ooh, hold on.” Niko picks up the Hello Kitty backpack and reaches into it. And keeps reaching. Charles stares in astonishment as her arm vanishes up to her shoulder. “I think I have something in here. I told you our payment from the Case of the Floating Lockers would come in handy, Crystal.”

“You let people get away with paying us anything,” Crystal says with a huff. “He promised us a cursed diamond and he paid us with—”

“A cricket bat!” Niko pulls the bat out of the bag and hands it to Charles. “Maybe we can enchant it so it won’t break so easily.”

Charles weighs the bat in his hands. It’s a bit battered, but so is he. It’ll do. “Thank you,” he says, swallowing hard. “Wait, how did this fit in that little bag?”

Smiling slyly, Niko opens the bag and shows him the inside, which is nothing but blackness. “It’s a magical void. I can fit anything in here. There’s a bicycle floating around in here somewhere. And at least one severed hand.”

Charles decides not to ask.

“I can show you how to use it later, if you’d like,” Niko says. “Crystal never got the hang of it.”

Crystal eyes the bag warily. “It doesn't like me.”

“But maybe you will,” Niko says.

Charles finds himself unable to do anything but smile at her. “That’d be brills, Niko.” He looks between them hopefully. “Does that mean I can stay?”

Crystal and Niko exchange another look. “Yeah, you can stay,” Crystal says. “It never hurts to have an extra set of hands around. And we’re not going to kick you out in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Niko claps her hands and to Charles’s surprise, pulls him into a hug. It’s a bit odd, hugging a ghost. She doesn’t feel so much like a warm, living body, but more like the memory of one. He can almost feel the silkiness of her dress under his hands, but not quite. “Welcome to the Dead Girl Detective Agency!”

***

One year later

“And that’s a wrap on the Case of the Creepy Monk,” Charles says as he steps into the office, soaking wet, hurting all over, and exhausted, but warm with the success of a successful case.

“We’re not calling it that,” Crystal says, closing the door behind her. Unlike Charles, she doesn’t have a drop of water on her. The perks of being a ghost, he supposes.

“You got a better name for it, do you?”

“Yeah, the Case of Charles Almost Getting Eaten by a Hellhound Because He Wouldn’t Fucking Listen To Me.”

“That doesn’t really roll off the tongue,” Niko says.

Charles’s mouth drops open in offense. “I didn’t nearly get eaten by a hellhound!”

“So it wasn’t about to rip your throat out when Niko banished it?” Crystal raises an eyebrow.

Charles considers. “Right, maybe a little, but better me than you, right? I’m the brawn. It’s my job to take the hits.”

“Because what we need is an extra ghost on the run from Death.” Shrugging off her coat, she settles down behind the desk.

“But you did a great job getting the monk out of the way,” Niko says brightly.

Charles smiles at her. “Thanks, Niko. Nice to be appreciated.”

“I appreciate you,” Crystal says. “Alive.”

Charles’s smile widens. “Love you too, Crystal.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s her fond eye roll. Charles knows all Crystal’s eye rolls by now. “Just try not to get mauled by a hellhound.”

“Sure thing.” Charles spots a pile of mail on the desk. “Looks like the postman came, yeah? Maybe our next case is in here.”

“Hopefully one with no hellhounds,” Niko says. “Or creepy monks.”

“I preferred the hellhound,” Crystal grumbles and Niko giggles.

Grinning to himself, Charles picks up the pile of mail and starts sorting through. It’s pretty standard stuff: a love letter from a ghost from Brighton who’s in love with Crystal—that one goes straight in the bin—a flier from the local apothecary, a death threat from a ghost who blames them for his wife moving on without him—that one’s funny, since two-thirds of their agency is already dead. Charles tosses the death threat out, then picks up the flier under it and finds himself plunged into a vision.

A house on a quiet, tree-lined street.

Darkness.

A little girl with her back turned to Charles, standing in the middle of a room filled with bones. An enormous snake circling her, drawing back to strike.

Charles blinks and he’s back at the office, Niko and Crystal both watching him.

“What did you see?” Crystal asks.

Charles looks at the flier and finds a little girl smiling up at him. “Missing,” it reads. “Have you seen this girl? Becky Aspen, 10.”

“Charles, what is it?” Niko takes the flier from his hand.

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the memory of darkness. He can practically feel Becky Aspen’s terror hanging in the air. “You two fancy a trip to the States?”

***

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#dead boy detectives #dead girl detectives #charles rowland week #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #ghost's fic #ghost's writing

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korgidorgi · 2 days ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone. “I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above. Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her. “I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

#x reader #fanfiction #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #arcane mel medarda #arcane mel #lol arcane #arcane lol #arcane #arcane mel x reader #mel medarda x you

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harrietwritesstuff · 2 days ago

Note

Pick a number, get a drabble: Vova/Maks

"How long were you planning on hiding this?" and

“Go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

❤️

Okay. So. I.. forgot these were meant to be drabbles, and somehow wrote 2,000 words for "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

I hope its not a disappointment cos it's not a drabble. I'd love to know what you think!

I'll put together an actual drabble for the prompts this week too 😅

Popping this under a cut due to length. x

There's no clock in the room, the blinds drawn to - the only indication of the passage of time is the steady, quiet click of a syringe driver. Soft enough to be mostly unobtrusive, the sound sits below the quiet. Sometimes it's swallowed up by the gentle chatter of a nurse; but mostly it's just - there. A constant in this new kind of chaos where he has been left adrift. He finds that he is thankful for it; a hundred times over. For measuring time, but also for the relief he knows it brings - for both of them in entirely different ways.

For Maks, it's physical. A slow, drifting numbness away from the pain, the raw nerve endings blunted, the steady cry of his heart cradled by it, a quiet returning of strength, incrementally as he shifts between sleeping and waking.

For Vova though, it's something else. Gentle and more human than the insistent noise of the heart monitor that scrapes through him every other second - a glaring reminder, this soft sound is less intrusive in the moment they share - though he is the only one aware of it.

His evenings are spent here as the shadows stretch and change into darkness - he sits in the grey silence, curled into a chair, dragged as close to the bed as he dares. He flips through speeches, paperwork, invitations to this summit or that forum - attention divided between the words on the page, flickering in and out of focus as his own unsteady fatigue flares sharply- and the slow laboured breaths of the man beside him. Sometimes, his work sits in his lap, forgotten - entwined instead with every weak inhale, as though if he stops watching, if he moves or changes, dares to leave; then the sound will stop too.

He glances up from his task for a moment and stops short, hardly wanting to breathe in case anything changes. In the gloom, lit by the thin branches of light through the slatted blinds, the dark glow of a monitor - a familiar face, watching him this time. Not asleep, not hauled backwards into unconsciousness or dragged away by pain - soft, clear eyes tracing over his features as though reminding himself of them. Vova’s grip on the sheaf of papers loosens as his fingers slacken. The correspondence flutters unheeded to the floor, scattered over the clean, scrubbed tiles.

His mouth is dry suddenly, and he swallows rapidly; trying to think of something to say, anything.

“You–”

You're alive. You're here. With me.

Instead, it’s Maks who speaks first, his voice low and scratched.

“You look tired-”

Volodymyr lets out a weak laugh, more a sob than any genuine amusement, pressing a hand over his mouth lest more of his grief spill over. He tries again, but finds that he can't speak, can't find the words past the clawing, screeching relief in his bones, his hands shaking.

Maksym continues, mildly oblivious, through the grating soreness in his throat, his voice painfully hoarse.

“Exhausted, actually. Go to sleep.”

Resting against the pillows, his head turned toward Vova - Maksym smiles, past the cannula in his nose, the bandages, the slow click of the syringe, the creeping, spreading pain that lingers at the edges of his aching body.

Volodymyr doesn't smile back.

Just out of Maksym's sight, his hand grasps onto nothingness, his nails digging into his palm. The urge to reach out, to grab hold - to reassure himself; it rears its head again, more savage than before. It's a desperate, selfish need. How can I sleep, how can I-

I thought you were gone from me. I need to touch you, to feel you. To know you're really here. Please?

“I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise you. Come here.”

Though his voice is rough from underuse and his eyes are sunken, his face gaunt, something still radiates from Maks, an uncomplicated, sweet gentleness. He reaches out for Vova, his face twisting briefly as the movement pulls at his battered chest - sore muscles, slow healing skin, broken ribs, and he groans softly, his eyes sliding shut. He doesn’t ask for help, doesn't say anything as he tries to contain his reaction, shrinking back as he forces himself to swallow the pain; not to let it show. A muscle jumps sharply in his jaw, his hands clenched.

Vova moves awkwardly, about to try and offer comfort, find a solution, suddenly aware that, while this is all his fault - he can help this time. Not like before..

He doesn't move. He sits there, frozen; his hands clenched around Maksym. There's someone shouting his name above all the violence like an alarm call, the pitch grating at him, slamming against the inside of his skull. There’s a hand grabbing onto him, the back of his shirt, hauling him backward - away, someone else loosening his fingers from the white knuckled grip on Maksym's vest, his sweatshirt. No. No. I can't leave him, he’d never leave me - can't you see? Don't you understand? Let me stay! I have to stay with him. Where’s the first aid kit, the medics, someone get the-

Had he said that aloud? Screamed it? He can hear a keening noise, like some sort of wounded animal. What is that?

Is it him?

He gasps for breath, his throat raw.

“Let go. You need to let go of him– Sir!”

Volodymyr blinks.

Find a nurse, a doctor. He needs you to help. Don't just sit there - neither use nor ornament - what good are you here if you won’t at least try and help? Vova lurches to his feet then just as suddenly freezes in place, his mind whirring into a flutter of panic, cycling around and around. What if you go and he-- You can't, mustn't leave him. Not again. You can't. He wouldn't ever leave you.

“Let me get someone-” He blurts out the half-offer of help, rescued from having to complete it, the terror of having to leave all over again, by the reply.

“No. Don’t go. I'm okay. I'd like you to- just.. stay.. please?”

Maksym blinks at him slowly in the low light, breathing harshly. His gaze flickers over Volodymyr, watching carefully as though he might bolt away, aware of the brittle energy running through him. Everything seems too delicate and new between them suddenly; they have diverged down a different path to the one he had expected, something has shifted that cannot be called back. Vova says nothing, standing amongst the fallen papers, his heart in his mouth. His fingertips twitch against the rough seam of his combat trousers, fingers curling against his palm for want of something, someone to hold.

“I'll stay. With you.”

His voice is thin, hardly audible.

As if he'd do anything else. As if to go wouldn't have torn his soul away entirely, leaving him empty, bereft. He takes a step closer, shuffling; something almost childlike about the movement - shy all of a sudden. Maks smiles, sinking back into the pillows. He leaves his hand, palm up on the blankets - a silent, unobtrusive invitation; take my hand. I won't leave you.

“There. See. I don't bite.”

Again, Vova doesn't smile, or laugh - instead he swallows - steels himself.

“I left–” he blurts it out suddenly, surprising himself with the abruptness - no preamble, nothing to indicate what he was about to say. He clears his throat and chooses to stare at the papers beneath his feet; not at Maksym’s thin, tired face, at the implicit forgiveness in his eyes that he does not feel he deserves.

He left Maks. In the dirt and the chaos. Not knowing if they'd see one another again. Not knowing if he'd-

“I left.. you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't- they wouldn't let me s–”

Maksym frowns and Vova stops talking, twisting his hands together. He isn't Volodymyr here; not the man who has united Europe, who has given strength and courage to thousands of his own people, millions more over the world- just, Vova this time. Quiet, painfully unsure of where he stands in this new world of theirs.

It's not anger in Maksym's expression, just confusion - morphine-slow thoughts drifting around his head, trying to piece the jagged moments that he can recall into something whole; not really to understand them - he has no wish to revisit them, but seeking instead to understand the apology that Vova seems to feel he has to give, the reason for the forgiveness he feels that he must ask for.

Vaguely, he remembers an impact - throwing himself to the ground, dragging Vova with him, shielding him - the feeling of something piercing inside his chest, then again in his shoulder - a hand gripping onto him, pressing against the wound in his shoulder; a voice in his ear..

Oh.

Maks struggles to sit upright, reaches out again, insistently this time - determined, his teeth gritted against the sharp, flaring pain in his shoulder, the throbbing discomfort of his chest.

The slow crimson flower painting the gauze across his ribs changes, petals blooming.

“Vova. Vova. Look at me. Please? Listen to me.”

The pain in his chest flares sharply, though he is unsure if it is physical - in too much pain to really differentiate it all, or if it’s something else, because Vova won't look at him.

“You don’t have to feel like that - there’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

Vova blinks.

“But we shouldn't have been there. I- I wanted to go. It was foolish. And now you've-”

“It's my job. I was glad to do it. Do you understand?”

His voice breaks on the last syllable, It’s more than he’s spoken, more than he’s moved in days; his exhausted body alarmed at this sudden need for energy, the force behind his words, his movements jagged, desperate almost - all of it far too much. Maksym coughs, a ragged gasp splitting his lips as the pain explodes into something white-hot, the hand he’d reached out to Volodymyr is suddenly scrabbling on the blanket, desperate for something to hold, just for a moment - to ride this new wave of an entirely different agony, his chest shuddering painfully.

Without a second thought, Vova moves this time; as close as he dares. He cradles Maksym’s left hand in both of his, gently, cautiously - careful of the dressing, the IV line beneath it. His skin is cold, a bone deep sort of ache settled there beneath the bandages.

“You’re alright. You’re alright, Maks,” Vova murmurs softly, not expecting a reply - holding on as gently as he can, desperate not to cause any further hurt, but too consumed by his own need to do something, anything.

“Hold on. Hold onto me. I’ve got you. Just.. breathe.. it'll stop soon. Breathe..”

He thinks about all the times Maks has said those same words to him; his voice gentle, understanding.

“Don’t go. Dont want- Please. Don't leave me-” Maksym’s voice now is fearful, a pained, pleading thing through clenched teeth, tensed muscles - straining against the hurt of his body. Utterly blindsided by it, he is dragged beneath a crashing wave, gasping for air.

Vova smiles faintly this time, tremulous - half tears as he nods unseen; the wrenching pain tearing at him too, wishing that he could take it in his hands, bury it deep into his chest and bear it instead, not Maks. Or if not that, then - to hold him at least, if nothing else; to cradle him close until it passes. Without thinking, one hand clutching Maksym’s, he presses a palm against his cheek, leaning his forehead as close as he can, barely a whisper between them.

“Of course. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

It ceases, eventually, somehow in embittered silence - Vova unsure how long before the click of the syringe coincides with an easing in Maks, the strain gone from his face, the dregs of energy swallowed up; leaving him shivering, weak again. The colour is gone from his face, the pain leaving deep, ugly grooves in the hollows of his cheeks. They look at one another for a long time in silence before Maks has the energy to speak again.

“I'd do anything for you-” His voice is slurred, the syllables streaked together like oil pooling on tarmac, the iridescence gleaming.

This time, Vova looks at him, his voice steady - quiet.

“I know.”

He leans over and presses a small, feather-light kiss to his forehead, a soothing mumble leaving his lips as he leans back.

"Go to sleep, love. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Dazed, utterly exhausted - Maks complies without comment, sinking back into oblivion, his features suddenly slack. Vova moves carefully, inching onto the bed until he's curled up beside Maksym, their hands still entwined.

In the grey soft light, the syringe driver clicks.

#harriet writes: answers

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